


Ecstasy is All You Need

by InitialA



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Blow Jobs, Clothing Kink, Condoms, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, Marathon Sex, Masturbation, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation Kink, Mirror Sex, Phone Sex, Prompt Fic, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Safer Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Stiletto Heels, Strip Games, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, Vibrators, Voyeurism, Wake-Up Sex, Young Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Young Emma Swan, cs bangarang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 59
Words: 100,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InitialA/pseuds/InitialA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of smut prompts originally posted on Tumblr. Check chapter titles for content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil Wears Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For in-spirational, who asked for "emma purchases some new lingerie and decides to drive killian crazy with it. (lots of teasing and cursing)"

Exiting the bathroom in need of assistance with his tie, Killian stopped short and found himself in desperate need of a drink. "Y-You're not wearing that, are you, love?"

Emma threw a coy look over her shoulder, pausing in her bend to pick up the dress she'd picked out for that evening. The effect was instantaneous, drawing his eye down her body, garters and those spikes for shoes she so loved and all. "Why, is there a problem?"

Oh there bloody well was a problem. He was used to this world's version of undergarments, for the most part. But the frustrating thing of it was how someone, at some point in time, had decided to make women's breast bands and loincloths so gods-be-damned _revealing_. And more frustrating was that, while Emma looked ravishing in anything and nothing at all, she had the ensnaring charm of a siren in all of them. This one was sinful, black lace shaped around her in what she might otherwise call a 'bathing suit', but she'd never (at least, he thought with a jealous twinge, she'd better not) wear something in public with the neckline plunging that deeply, or with her arse on full display, peeking out tantalizingly from under the lace. Her black hose were held up by garters, and her heels could probably kill a man--which, come to think of it, would probably be as enticing a sight to watch as the one currently before him.

He keened a little, involuntarily, when the dress went over the garment; it was a nice dress, if you liked your women to wear clothing, in her favorite red and clinging in all the right places, and under normal situations he would appreciate her figure in it. However, with his cock straining against his slacks, he wanted nothing more than to tear it off of her--quite literally, if need be--pin her to the bed, and fuck her senseless.

Emma gave him the coy look again, and bent in front of the mirror to adjust her hair. That done, she sauntered to where he stood--and he was well aware that he'd been standing shell-shocked in the same spot for almost five minutes, slack-jawed like the git that he was--and did up his tie for him, tucking it into his waistcoat and smoothing it down, her fingers lingering on his chest. She had to feel his heart racing under her touch. The self-satisfied smirk told him she did. "Behave yourself tonight," she told him, her voice sultry. "This is payback for last time."

She left the room, taking his breath with him. It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about.

_A delicate throat-clearing brought his attention out of his book. The first thing he noticed was a confection of pink and ruffles and lace. "A bloody cupcake?" He asked._

_The words, and the following laughter, slipped out before he could stop them, as the rest of his brain took in the lacy pink panties, the sheer pink curtains falling from the lacy pink bra, realizing too late that his barefoot goddess was attempting to seduce him. She'd stormed off before he could stop her._

He couldn't remember what the party was for, why they were all dressed up. A betrothal? A wedding? Another baby? There were a lot of drinks in his hand over the course of the night, and Killian vowed to keep his mind clear for what was in store later, but  _seven hells_  watching her socialize, prancing around the room in that little dress, those heels, smiling and flipping her hair, knowing what she looked like under the seemingly innocent dress... He swallowed another mouthful of whisky, watching her laugh at something the doctor said. Her wanton eyes caught his when she touched Whale's arm. His blood roared, and he slammed the tumbler on the bar after downing the rest of it.

She met him in the middle. "I think it's time to go," Emma said, the innocence of the statement broken up by the knowing way her lips curled upwards.

"Too right," he said tightly.

Farewells were quick, and the walk to their apartment even quicker. He unzipped her dress as they went up the stairs, her heels clicking against the tiles fast and he taking them two at a time. The door was barely shut behind them before he pinned her against it, his mouth on hers, her hands clawing at his back, one leg already hooked around his waist. " _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ ," she whimpered when his mouth moved roughly down her neck, bear scraping red streaks down her skin.

"I bloody well intend to, you witch. Take this damned thing off."

Her dress fell to a heap on the floor around her feet. He paused for a moment to loosen the tie around his neck, and then he went right back to lavishing her breasts over the lace, enjoying her squirming  and the way her hands fisted in his hair. "Fuck. Jesus  _fuck_ , Killian, just-- _shit_ , I need--"

Her hands fumbled at his belt, undoing his slacks enough to free his cock from its confined space. He cut the fabric covering her mound with his hook, and thrust his fingers inside her sopping heat. "Dammit, Jones, if you don't--"

The gods smiled on Killian Jones the day they invented the spiked shoes, because he didn't even need to lift her to angle himself in. He took her right against the door, one heel digging into his own arse. She keened, clinging to him. "Come on, love, come for me, show me your pretty face when I drive my cock into you."

She kissed him roughly, breaking only when he shifted, trying to hit that spot that made her fall to pieces. "That's a girl, let me hear you. Right here, me fucking you at the door, anyone could hear you, what I do to you, and you love that, don't you? You  _want_  everyone to know what I do to you, want  _everyone_  to know that you are  _mine_ , that I only give this to  _you._ "

Emma cried out, and trembled against him, her walls convulsing around him as he followed her into ecstasy moments later.

Their chests heaved, gasping for air. He untangled himself from her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She slipped out of her shoes, and stumbled over to the couch, collapsing onto it. "Worth every look Ruby's going to give me tomorrow," she said, her laugh breathy.

Killian managed to make it to the chair, his lower back on fire. "Whale? Of all the people, love..."

"Sorry," she apologized, sincerely. "I thought he might set you off the fastest..."

"Bloody right he does," he muttered darkly.

She sat up, and reached over, taking his hand in hers. "Hey. I won't do it again, alright?"

He nodded. After a moment, he turned his hand to clasp hers. "The rest of it, though... that was grand."

"You're a sucker for punishment, aren't you?" She asked dryly.

"Depends on who's doing the punishing, love," he taunted.

She leaned over the arm of the couch, their faces close. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing together. "If you don't get me out of this teddy, and I might punish you again," she murmured.

"Maybe I won't," he breathed.

She laughed, and he got up, whisking her off the couch and into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot.


	2. Durex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous, "could you write a smut fic where killian finds a box of condoms and confusedly asks emma about them which leads to her demonstrating, etc"

Her own place. _Finally_. No more shrieking babies, no more strays picked up, no more awkward mornings when her parents… yeah, no, not going to think about that, nope. Quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet… “Swan?”

Dammit.

Emma dropped the clothes she’d been unpacking on the unmade new mattress. “In the bedroom!”

Killian came in the room holding a box. “Now, I know there are a lot of linguistic differences between our worlds, love, but what does ‘Durex’ mean?”

She froze. Then, remembering that she was almost thirty and could have a conversation about condoms like any rational adult, cleared her throat and went to take it from him. “It doesn’t mean anything, I don’t think. It’s just the brand name, like how I buy Hershey’s chocolate or Diet Coke. These are Durex condoms.”

"And what exactly are ‘condoms’?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Christ. She was putting off this very necessary conversation with  _Henry_ , she didn’t exactly want to do a warm-up with her  _300-year old boyfriend_. “It’s… like your sword. You keep it in a sheath to keep it from hurting other people unless you want to. Only… only it’s for your…” She gestured helplessly towards his pants.

"Penis" felt too clinical, "dick" was too funny, and "cock" was a heated word for spur-of-the-moment dirty talk. What the hell was wrong with her? Killian began to chuckle. "To keep a lady from falling pregnant? We have such devices back home."

"Yeah, made from pig intestines or whatever, right?" Emma muttered.

"Something like that, love," he said, taking the few steps to close the gap between them. "Now, why might you have a box full of them?"

"Gee whiz, mister, I dunno," she said dryly, and her impression of the kid from Superman was lost on him. "I’m not exactly ready to give Henry any little brothers or sisters."

The smug smile on his face made her want to roll her eyes. “And who might the father of those little brothers or sisters be?”

"Well, your name is falling down the list."

"There’s a list?" He asked, his voice teasing on the edge of curiosity and jealousy.

Emma hummed, playing with the buttons on his waistcoat. Killian looked at the box of condoms again. “I take it these aren’t animal guts, then? They’re not in your magic ice box.”

"No they’re…" she opened the box and took one of the foil packets out. "Comes in this, open it," which she did "and bam, there you go. Latex. Kind of a rubber thing. Stretchy. Thin." She checked the box. "And ribbed for her pleasure, go past me."

His eyes grew darker as he inspected it. “And it is failsafe?”

"Most of the time. Most people use it with something else, like how I’m on the pill."

His eyes met hers, and the intensity sent flames rushing down her spine. “Indeed. Seems a waste, love, to just…" he plucked the condom from her fingers, and caressed her cheek with it, "not use this.”

Her throat went dry. “Um. Yeah… Yeah, it might be…”

Somehow they were walking backwards, and then they were falling onto her new bed, her clothes carelessly pushed to the floor, and Killian’s hand was under her shirt and his lips were on her neck and he was mumbling something into her skin about christening a new ship. There was a brief pause to unclothe themselves, and another brief pause to take in the sight of each other’s naked bodies for the first time.

Her hand trailed down his chest, his stomach muscles jumping under her feathery touches as she followed the dark trail to its end. She met his eyes, and there was a wary hesitancy about him that she rarely saw, and definitely hadn't expected in this setting. "What?" She asked, doubt creeping up her spine.

He swallowed. "Love, I don't..."

Emma frowned, just slightly, and reached for her shirt. His hand caught hers. "No. Not that, it's just. Emma, I  _have_  thought about this quite a lot, many ways that I will be  _quite_  glad to describe or perform in detail with you, and I want to do right by you this one time, but gods be damned I don't think I can hold myself back."

She stared at him, and started to laugh. "Killian. We have all the time in the world for slow. I think, by now, we've waited long enough, don't you?"

He was on top of her in an instant, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue was rough on hers, his hand squeezing her breast, fingers circling and rolling her nipple between them. Emma arched her back into him, encouraging him further, but his hand slipped down her stomach to settle between her legs, sliding along her folds and teasing her nerves. "Love," he said between kisses, "love, I'm not going to last much longer. Get the bloody sheath on."

"It's not bloody," she retorted. "It's not made of animal guts."

Killian nibbled the bottom of her lip in response. She briefly forgot which way was up and which was down, until he kissed her along her jawline and down the line of her pulse. She reached for the condom and remembered an old trick. "Get up," Emma ordered.

He obliged, sitting back on his heels. Emma showed him the condom, making sure his eyes followed her movements as she placed it just inside her mouth, resting against her teeth. She leaned forward slowly, grasping his length, and placed her mouth over the tip. Gently, she took him into her mouth, rolling the condom down his cock as she went; his hand was fisted in her hair, strangled noises coming from him as he forgot how to breathe. She squeezed her lips together over his shaft, running up and down his length a few times to make sure the air was out--and all right, also to squeeze those delicious noises out of his mouth.

He pulled her off of him roughly, still gripping her hair like a lifeline, and crushed their lips together. She eased back, taking him with her; she liked the feeling of his hand on her too much to make him move, so she took over positioning his cock at her entrance, and he slid home easily.  _Fuck_ , he fit her so _fucking_  well. He filled her completely, each thrust ramming his cock against the spot that shot off fireworks in her mind.

It was hard, fast, and by the time they were shouting names (him) and obscenities (her), Killian's well-scarred body would be adding new souvenirs on his back, and she wasn't going to be able to wear her hair up for a week or more.

He collapsed against her, and his weight was soothing on top of her. She cradled his head against her chest, his warm breath puffing against her breasts. "Amazing," he murmured after a time.

"Thank you," she said, oddly touched.

"Well, you as well, but mostly I was talking about the device--" he broke off laughing when she smacked his shoulder lightly.

He propped himself up on his elbow, and kissed her well. "Slow, next time," he promised.

"Next time," she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting condoms on via blowjob is a bit tricky, but the end result is worth it. Safe AND hot sex!


	3. Heat of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested "Could I request a captain swan smut prompt, where killian comes home to emma in nothing but one of his modern-day shirts, and smut ensues?"
> 
> I tweaked some things and added others.

Killian rolled his head on his neck as he ascended the stairs; the little prince was becoming quite rambunctious—though being the son of the bandit Snow White and the uncle of Henry (who, much to his mother’s displeasure, was already angling for a motorcycle for his 18th birthday in a few years) it was to be expected—and Killian wasn’t quite used to being used as a jungle gym yet. It was also rather a hot day, and like all children, Neal wasn’t nearly as susceptible to such trivial things as heat as his elders were.

There was faint singing coming from the other side of the door to the apartment he and Emma shared, and he paused before opening it to listen.

Even after several years together, living together or not, Emma was secretive about some of her habits. And that was fine. He had his life outside of theirs together, she should have hers. But some little moments, like her secret love of song or his occasional dalliance with a pipe, slipped through the cracks of their separate lives to the one they shared. And like any siren, her songs could bring him to the brink.

The tune was soft, and he smiled when he realized what she must be doing. He knocked once to announce his presence, opened the door, and halted, slowly closing it behind him.

The apartment they shared with Henry was warm, every window thrown open and fans blowing to stir a breeze. And Emma, fresh from her morning at the station, chose to deal with this heat by stripping down to nothing but one of his modern shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times over her elbows. Even with his warning, she started a bit at his presence. “You’re back early,” she said.

"Aye, the little prince tuckered himself into a nap. Your mother promises to call me over more often to wear him out," Killian said, coming over to wrap his arms around her.

Emma chuckled when he moved to do so from behind her. “It wouldn’t hurt for a full-frontal hug every now and then, Jones.”

"Aye, but how am I supposed to comfortably hold my two favorite girls when one of them is squashed between us?" He asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and his hands across the swell of Emma’s stomach.

Emma leaned her head back against him, running her hands up and down his biceps. “We don’t know it’s a girl, Killian,” she said wearily; it was an old argument.

“ _I_  know,” he told her, kissing her temple. “Pirate’s instinct. We are having a daughter.”

"Yeah, that same pirate’s instinct that can’t figure out the GPS—"

"Bloody devil machine that is—"

She opened her mouth to argue further, but he caught her up in a kiss, turning her body to mold against his. He attempted to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back, mumbling, “Seriously?”

"Can’t keep my hand off you, love."

"You just like me barefoot and pregnant."

There was a certain allure to it, for sure, but not in the way she took it. She had a faint glow about her normally, one that she teased him for mentioning but he was quite sure was some manifestation of her magic. She was luminescent now, like the fullest moon, guiding his way through the blackest nights. He was more drawn to her than a moth to a flame than ever before. He took every opportunity to remind her how he cared for her, loved her, and when one of her brooding mother moods hit, found her magnificent.

Now was not one of those moods, but he hoped that every instance he showed her his feelings she kept tucked away for those unhappy days.

Now, like all those times before, he loved to lay her out on their bed, her hair streaming around her like a river of gold. He unbuttoned the shirt easily, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, soothing her breasts with his tongue, gently lapping, swirling, teasing each to a taught peak. He kissed the peak of her belly before disappearing from her view, parting her nether lips with his fingers and delving between her folds with his tongue. He teased and caressed the bundle of nerves that made her squirm and curse his name, his fingers prodding her entrance and sliding in and out with ease.

When she came, the luminescence surrounding her intensified; Killian was certain it was tied to her magic, perhaps the magic their child also carried. She smiled drowsily at him when he moved up the mattress to join her, holding her fast against him. She was often too tired, and he too concerned despite advice to the contrary, to reciprocate the pleasure he gave her, but it didn't matter.

He would always put Emma's happiness before his, now, tomorrow, next month, five/ten/fifty years from now. Her happiness brought him more joy than he could ever have imagined; and perhaps that was what truly defined true love above all.


	4. High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: cs high school au- flirty/badboy!killian and feisty!emma, lots of sexual tension has built up over time and they end up sleeping together at a friend's party?
> 
> First person POV: Emma

The thing no one tells you about small towns is that the dating options are slim. Oh, and you can’t get away with anything because everyone knows you and your parents. And your parents know you did something even before you thought about doing it.

I mean, it doesn’t help when your mom is a teacher and your dad is the sheriff—seriously, who the hell thought that having a cop for a dad came with all sorts of perks? That’s another lie they tell you on TV. Like hell would my dad ever give me the mythological “get out of jail free card”.

So yeah, it’s not like any boys will be banging down my door to take me out with Sheriff Nolan answering the door, but it kind of really sucks that I’ve known everyone my age since we were in diapers. That doesn’t exactly lead to romantic notions, if you know what I mean.

Oh they’ve tried. Neal Gold was my first kiss back in junior high, when we were pretty sure we were the last two people on planet Earth to not have had our first kisses. This somehow led him to think I had a major thing for him (I didn’t) and he took me out a few times (hey, my allowance is limited and Granny Lucas grills a mean BLT) but it ran its course pretty quickly. Especially when I didn’t let Neal feel me up (whatever, his hands were clammy)

I just want you to keep all of this in mind, so you can appreciate what happened next.

My senior year of high school started as normally as ever. Mom dropped me and my younger brother Leo—he was starting his freshman year, I’d already promised to shove him into his locker—off on her way to the elementary school with our little sister Ruth; I said hi to everyone I’d seen every day since forever, and went to my homeroom. Ruby and I talked while we waited for the bell to ring—it’s not like we had any homework to finish, and there would be a slew of announcements and forms to pass out and have our parents fill in. Ruby was ranting about some new rule Granny had imposed on her about her hair (Ruby changed her hair about as often as I changed my socks) when someone I had never seen before walked into the room and sat down at an empty desk.

Remember, I’d known everyone here since I was born. It’s not like Storybrooke, Maine was a hopping metropolis of culture, so we didn’t really get new families moving into town. If anything, we had families leaving town, like how Neal and his dad had moved to Phoenix last year. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d ever had a new kid, if we ever had at all. New kids were kind of a concept I’d thought were also made up by TV shows, like police dads who let their kids get away with underage drinking or small New England towns being quaint and full of quirky and endearing individuals.

So yeah, I was staring a little.

Okay, a lot. Whoever this guy was, he was hot. His hair looked like it had been styled at one point that morning, but he’d gotten frustrated and ran his fingers through it a few times, sticking out at odd angles. He even made our dorky uniforms look good: his button-up untucked and hanging out below his sweater, said sweater pushed up over some astoundingly fantastic forearms, and his tie carelessly knotted. He sat at that slouch that read “I am very cool and intimidating, do not approach but also you should try to approach because I am just that cool and intimidating”.

Ruby noticed I wasn’t paying full attention to her hair story, and followed my gaze. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

"Don’t let Vicky hear you," I mumbled.

"Don’t call him Vicky."

August, or Mr. Booth as I was supposed to call him during school (he was like a big brother to me, it was just weird when he was my homeroom and English teacher) came in just then and called us to order. The identity of the new kid was revealed very quickly thanks to the invention of alphabetical order: Killian Jones. Killian didn’t look up or around at any of us while roll was called, or while any of the boring, first-day-of-school paperwork was taken care of. In fact, he hardly budged at all until Aug—Mr. Booth said, “We’ve got a new student with us this year. Mr. Jones, care to come up here and introduce yourself a little?”

For a full minute, it didn’t look like he would care, but Mr. Booth’s patience against stubborn students is legendary. Killian finally got up and shuffled to the front of the room. I heard Ruby gasp when he spoke, and I fully understood why: he was English. Like, real English. “Name’s Killian Jones, I’m not exactly here by any choice of mine, and if anyone knows a decent way to gain a smoke or a shag around here, you know where to find me.”

I swear, Mr. Booth was about to write him up on the spot, and I think that might have been kind of a new disciplinary record, but before he could say anything the bell rang for first period. Ruby grabbed my arm as we went to meet our friend Alex Boyd for World Civ with Grace Milliner, another family friend who I forgot to call her by name properly. “Holy shit.”

"Should I write Victor a letter of condolences?" I teased.

"I mean…"

I laughed, and Ruby threw a surreptitious look over her shoulder. “He’s looking!” She hissed.

"What?" I twisted my head around, and saw what she meant: Killian was definitely watching us from where he stood in the door, his books in hand. When our eyes met, this little smirk appeared, and he walked down the hall in the other direction.

Ruby smacked me. “Dummy, you’re not supposed to actually look.”

I rolled my eyes. “How am I supposed to know that?”

"What are we talking about?" Alex asked as we got to Miss Milliner’s room.

*~*

I didn’t see Killian again until lunch; it was a nice day so upperclassmen were allowed to sit outside. Ruby, Alex and I had commandeered a picnic table for ourselves. “Should the sheriff’s daughter be showing blatant disregard for rules by perching atop the table, Swan?” His lilting voice carried as he sauntered over to us—and I say sauntered, because there aren’t any better words for the way he walked.

Alex, who had yet to actually see the boy Ruby had not shut up about since first period, sucked in a breath and slapped her hand on mine. “You pick up quick,” I said about his comment on my dad.

"News travels fast in these parts. All I had to do was ask around who the fair and fit Swan in my homeroom was and I had more information than I knew what to do with," he grinned, and slid in next to Ruby, across from Alex and me. "Speaking of, I’ve learned the girl with the bloodred hair works at the local eating establishment, mostly against her will and also rebels by changing said hair as often as humanly possible, and you, love, I have yet to be acquainted with."

"Alex," she said, a little breathlessly. "Alex Boyd."

"Killian Jones. Charmed," Killian slipped her hand into his and kissed the back of it. I think Alex’s head almost exploded.

I took a bite out of my sandwich. “So, Swan, any particular plans this evening?” Killian asked, turning those blue eyes on me.

“They don’t concern you, and why do you keep calling me Swan?” I asked, mildly irritated.

He gestured to the necklace I always wore, a swan-shaped pendant that my parents had given me on my fifteenth birthday. My hand automatically went to it. He grinned, reaching into his pocket. “Swan suits you much better than anything else, darling.”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. My attraction to him dropped a few notches, and Alex’s eyes were wide as he lit it. “Are you kidding me?” She hissed. “Sister Rose will actually murder you for that, and nuns can get away with that kind of thing!”

Killian took a long drag, and was considerate enough to puff away from us. It might have been a disgusting habit, but he did look kind of good doing it, which wasn’t a confusing or conflicting thought to have or anything. He winked at Alex, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Sweetheart, I’ve been in a lot worse situations than being scolded by a nun. I’m touched that you care, though.”

It turned out that in addition to being a relentless flirt, he was a pickpocket too, because I hardly blinked and before I knew it he’d reached across the table and my phone was in his hand. “Oh, tut, you village lot and your absolute trust in one another. Not even password protected?”

I made a grab for it, and he pulled away from my reach, grinning as he stuck the cigarette between his teeth. There was some furious typing for a moment, and then he slid it across the table to me. “Give us a bell sometime, love,” he said, winking.

The wink sent a surge of heat through me; what the hell was this guy doing to me? He got up and sauntered away, taking another drag from the cigarette as he went, and I picked up my phone. My eyes widened, and the surge of heat turned into a surge of irritation. Ruby, looking over my shoulder, started to laugh, and Alex asked, “What? What did he do?” a few times before I showed her. Killian had given me his number, but in lieu of his name, he’d put “Fucktoy”.

*~*

I decided to swing by Granny’s after practice; mostly to bother Ruby but also because Mom was kind of a terrible cook and Dad was working, so unless I wanted to starve, it was my job to grab dinner. I didn’t see Ruby, but that didn’t mean much. She was probably in the back. I slid into my usual spot at the counter, and looked over the menu; kind of a pointless exercise, since I’ve been coming here since birth, but maybe someday I’ll surprise myself and not get the same thing every time. I didn’t even notice someone sitting next to me until a by-now-familiar British lilt said, “You do all that bloody running for fun?”

“Some of us aren’t giving ourselves lung cancer before we’re twenty,”  I said, not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him, “And you appear to be stalking me.”

“Not stalking, love,” Killian said, plucking the menu from my fingers to get me to glare at him, “just getting to know the layout of the town. We just happen to appear in similar places. And we all have bodily autonomy, don’t we? I can ruin my lungs, you can wear out your tendons, though I can think of other, more enjoyable ways to do that.”

I chose to ignore the last part. “Right, so following me for cross country practice isn’t stalking.”

“Oh, I love a lass with bite,” he drawled. I actually kind of hated him for how good he looked with that shit-eating grin while he was aggravating me so much. “No, darling, as much as it pains me to admit you are not yet the center of my universe, you just happen to run all over the bleeding earth, I happened to spot you in various locations, and Bob’s your uncle.”

I rolled my eyes. Luckily for me, Granny came up to me and confirmed what she already knew I wanted to eat; she also gave Killian a critical once-over. Granny was a terrifying old lady that I never wanted to get on the bad side of and hoped to be like one day. If Killian were up to something, she’d put a stop to it immediately. “And just who are you?” She asked.

Killian appraised her in response. “No one important. Just gusting through on a breeze, love.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Granny said gruffly. I smiled; it was always fun to hear someone else besides Ruby or me get scolded by her. “You’re new around these parts, so I’ll take pity on you for a moment: this is my kitchen, and if you want a decent meal, you’ll mind your tongue. Cause any trouble and you’re out on your ear without so much as a how-do.”

Killian glanced over at me. “Is there something in the water here, or do you lot just breed crotchety women like rabbits?”

I smacked him on the arm; I thought about smacking Granny too when I saw a ghost of a smirk. “We Yanks have bite too. Emma, I’ll have your dinner ready soon.”

When she was gone, he turned in his seat to give me his full attention again. “Now, Swan, I must admit that I am actually broken to pieces that you have yet to ring me up.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Okay, first of all, I’ve had your number for six hours—”

“About five and three-quarters more than most girls before they ring me—”

“And second of all,” I continued loudly over him, “what on Earth gave you the idea that I would ‘ring you’?”

He grinned at me again. “Well, to be absolutely honest, darling, I was hoping you’d do a bit more to me than ring—”

“Oh, my God,” I cried, throwing my hands up. “You’re insufferable!”

“I prefer ornery scoundrel, but whatever makes your proverbial boat float, Swan.”

“I’m ignoring you. You are being ignored,” I told him, and took out my phone.

I managed to clear five levels of Candy Crush—Dad was beating me again and I needed to reclaim my place in first—while Killian slowly came to realize that I wasn’t playing around. I endured a full fifteen minutes of “Swan” and “Oh sodding hell” and variations thereupon before Granny reappeared with my bag of takeout. We had an arrangement (as in, Dad would stop in before he came home to pay her), so I merely said my thanks before hopping off my stool and heading out the door with it. However, I had picked up a rather annoying shadow. “Come off it, Swan, I was only playing.”

I whirled, jabbing my finger into his chest. “You are an annoying little dweeb, and I’ll thank you to get the hell out of my sight before I deck you.”

Killian looked taken aback. “A  _dweeb_? Did you really just call  _me_  a  _dweeb_?”

“Yeah, I did.”

"I don’t think anyone has called me a dweeb since primary school, if at all.”

“Congratulations, your first American insult. Now go away before I have to bruise my knuckles.”

He looked at me with perplexed amusement before giving me a small salute. “As you wish, Swan.”

I watched him go, telling myself it was to make sure he actually was leaving. I’m not a very good liar though, even to myself.

*~*

Little did I know at the time that this would become the pattern of my life over the next few weeks. I never did call him, or even text, but he somehow found his way into my life anyway. Killian had that brand of endearing annoyance down to an art; he was mostly harmless—the number of afternoon detentions and in-school suspensions for smoking on school grounds, or when he’d forget to shave, or the time Dad hauled him in for underage and public drinking after he passed out in the park aside—and more or less existed to tease me. If we were younger, I’d expect him to be pulling my pigtails. I only had to punch him once, fairly early into our acquaintance, for him to understand that when I said back off, I meant it. I did feel a bit bad about the bruise on his jaw after, but when I apologized, he brushed me off, saying I was fully in the right and he’d been “a clot”. Some days I needed a translator for him.

But that was it. He annoyed me, I tried to give as good as I got; I was secretly warm for his form, he was obviously warm for mine, but I’d set the boundaries.

Then I fell.

The district cross country meet was always packed, and I’d been running the course for years so I should have been fine. But it had rained a lot that week, and the course was muddy. I wasn’t the only one to fall, and I wasn’t even the worst off because I had only a sprain and nothing broken. But I was still benched, probably for the rest of the season, and there went any chances of getting scouted.

I didn’t really need the crutches, but Mom insisted I use them for one day to see how I felt, and then we’d decide how the rest of the week would go. I kept my head down as we went into the school; it was mortifying. Leo carried my bag for me to homeroom. I embarrassed him in return by ruffling his hair in thanks; he glared at me, his ears red, and bolted from the room. I sank into my seat as Killian came into the room; our eyes met, and I was a little surprised to see the concern on his face. But when he made a move to come over, the bell rang, and Ruby skidded into the room just ahead of Mr. Booth, and we were all treated to a lecture on timeliness while attendance was taken.

Ruby carried my bag for me, even though I was perfectly capable of balancing between four legs with a backpack, but no one was listening to me. “Swan,” Killian murmured, catching my arm as we headed out the door.

"Jones."

"What’s all this then?"

"It’s nothing, really. Fell on Saturday."

His eyes caught mine again, and I was kind of touched by the little worry-line between his eyebrows. Then the warning bell rang, and he cursed, and I had to practically sprint to catch up with Ruby for World Civ.

*~*

I didn’t see him at lunch, which felt weird, because normally he came and bothered us for a few minutes before ducking out behind the dumpsters. In fact, I didn’t see him around the halls at all for the rest of the day.

Going home right after school felt weird, but Coach had mandated I take a week off and I could try walking our route next week. Dad was out, and I knew Mom and Ruth had Brownies later, and who knew where Leo got to after school, so imagine my surprise to see a small box sitting on my front porch. There was a note with surprisingly neat penmanship:

_Hope you like chocolate, Swan._

There was a cupcake in the box, chocolate with white frosting, and a little chocolate swan sitting at the peak.

I needed to sit down. The porch swing swayed gently under me as I stared at the cupcake. This was… I didn’t know what it was. It was a cupcake, sure, but a secret get-well cupcake? A ditch-school cupcake? I pulled out my phone and did the one thing I never thought I’d do: I hit the little call button next to “Fucktoy”.

It went to voicemail after a few rings, and not even a personalized one, just one of those  _"YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICE MAIL BOX OF {number}"_  ones. I realized that even though I had his number, he’d never gotten mine, so of course he wouldn’t pick up a strange Maine number. So I sent a text instead.

_Did you seriously skip school to buy me a cupcake?_

I didn’t expect any response, but the three dots appeared almost instantly.

**_She finally graces me with her presence. And yes, I did._ **

I started to reply, but my screen was overwhelmed by the word “Fucktoy” and vibrating. I didn’t even get time to answer, he just rambled on, “So are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

“I told you, it was nothing. The course was muddy, and I slipped. It’s a sprain.”

“Bloody hell, Swan. See, this is what I was talking about, why you shouldn’t be running around for no good reason. You get hurt.”

I snorted. “It’s nothing permanent.”

He made a noise of disbelief. I rolled my eyes. “Look, get your ass over here and I’ll prove it to you.”

For once in all the time I’d known him, Killian Jones didn’t say anything. In fact, the line was so quiet that I thought the call had dropped. “Hello?”

“Still here, love,” he said, a little quieter, and an edge had come off of his accent.

“I didn’t ask you to the prom, Jones,” I said. My heart was racing for some reason. “I asked you to come over to my house. Well, demanded.”

“I’ll be there in a tick.”

*~*

We sat on the porch for a long time. It was very innocent, sitting on the porch swing, talking. I even managed to get upstairs and change out of my uniform skirt into shorts before he got there. The most risqué thing that happened was when I slung my leg up on his lap to show off the bruising from my sprain. “That,” he informed me, “is grotesque.”

“It’s colorful,” I corrected.

He lightly pinched my big toe and lifted my foot up to move it off of him. I yelped. “It’s painful,” he teased, setting me down gently.

I smacked him on the shoulder. He grabbed my hand before I could pull away, and kissed the back of it, sending a shock down my arm as his stubble scraped my skin slightly. He hovered over me for a moment, those crazy-blue eyes twinkling, his grin widening, and then he winked. I felt very warm all of a sudden. “As much as it pains me to leave your side, love, I am expected at home,” he murmured.

“Far be it from me to keep anyone waiting for you,” I managed.

He chuckled, and the sound definitely did not make me feel any less warm.

*~*

Homecoming was another idea I was sure was an invention of television. I mean, we had it, and there was a homecoming queen, but there wasn’t a dance. No, we had our semi-formal around Valentine’s Day, and then the formal prom in the spring.

The homecoming game was late that year, after my birthday. Let me tell you, late October is not a fun night to stand around outside, in the rain, waiting for one of your friends to get a plastic-and-rhinestone crown and some bragging rights. I was there to show equal support for both Alex and Ruby, who were both in the running, but also because Ruby was my ride to the party at Victor’s house after the game.

Yeah, we didn’t have a homecoming dance, we were just forced to find someone’s house to have a party at. And Victor’s parents worked crazy shifts at the hospital, so the huge house would be empty for the night. Well… we hoped to rectify that, anyway.

Though I’d been warned that the SPD would be out in full force to check on any and all homecoming parties. I wasn’t expecting anything too wild.

Alex won, and she cried, she was so happy. Ruby still had her Homecoming Princess tiara, so she wasn’t exactly bummed about losing. The court were required to stay for the whole game, so I alternated doing snack stand runs and walking laps around the track to keep myself from going crazy with boredom.

It didn’t help my mood that the state cross country meet was next weekend, and I hadn’t been able to qualify. I was kind of really angry with myself for it. I hadn’t done so hot at state the previous year, and this would have been my last chance to redeem it.

I was so preoccupied that I ran straight into someone, umbrella and all. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry—”

“Swan, easy,” Killian’s lilt said as his hands steadied me. “I didn’t know you had such school spirit.”

“Same could be said of you,” I told him. “I’m at least here because of Alex and Ruby.”

He just shrugged. “I was told I could find myself at a party if I came so… here I am.”

I smiled. “The seniors’ party is at Victor’s place.”

Killian smirked, and it warded off the damp chill. “Perhaps I’ll see you there, then, love.”

*~*

Victor’s was loud. Not the music, because he knew my dad would be there in a hot minute, but everyone talking and laughing over each other. The football team was in the running for the league title, the cross country team was going to state, and the swimming team was poised to win most of the meets this year. Everyone was happy. It was a little overwhelming. At one point I found myself at the top of the stairs, overlooking the foyer, just to get some air and away from the crowd.

Killian found me there.

We didn’t say anything for a while. He had a flask; I knew there were others around the room below. He offered it to me at one point, and I think I was so angry with myself about being benched for my final season that I took him up on it and took a swallow—and promptly sprayed it right back out. “What the fuck  _is_  that?” I demanded, coughing and pulling a face.

Killian was laughing so hard I thought  _he_  might sprain something next. “Oh, God, your face…” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s  _rum_ , darling, it’s supposed to taste like that.”

I made another face, and he started to laugh again. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Every few minutes he would start to chuckle again, and when the aftertaste of the rum wore off, I started to laugh with him. I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those moments where something isn’t really that funny, but because you’re with someone or the moment involves someone it becomes the funniest thing in the world; but Killian and I shared a moment like that, both of us having to sit on the floor for fear our legs couldn’t hold us up any longer from the lack of oxygen.

I found myself next to him, my head resting on his shoulder as the last of the giggles escaped both of us. His arm moved up around my shoulder. It felt nice. Warm. And then I was looking up at him, and his impossibly blue eyes were looking at me like they could see every secret I could ever have; and then I was pulling on his shirt collar, his lips were on mine, and my hand was in his hair, and  _holy fuck_  was he a fantastic kisser. Nibbling my lips, just the right amount of tongue, and the  _sounds_  he made, from deep moans to breathy whimpers.

A loud conversation moved up on the stairs, and we sprang apart, fighting for breath. “I will commit murder tonight,” Killian muttered darkly.

“Spare room,” I said suddenly.

“What?”

“There are about fifteen spare rooms in this house. You and me, one of them, now.”

I felt emboldened. I knew what I wanted. I didn’t care I hadn’t done it before, or that there wasn’t going to be moonlight or satin sheets or rose petals or whatever. I stood up, dragging Killian along behind me, and ducked into the first room I knew would be clean. Killian stood in the middle of the room when I closed the door, and scratched behind his ear, a nervous tic of his. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Swan, I… may not have given the correct impression…”

I frowned, trying to think what he was talking about, and then it hit like lightning. I wanted to laugh, I really did, but for both of our sake I kept it in. “You’ve never done this before,” I stated.

“No,” his voice was hoarse.

I reached out, and took his hand. “Me neither.”

There was the matter of safety, but I knew where Victor kept his stash, and left Killian alone briefly to raid it for a condom and lube. He was sitting awkwardly on the bed when I returned, and practically sprang to his feet in relief, like he’d been worried I wasn’t coming back. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, Jones.”

His grin was sincere, and I think that’s what made it easiest to take that first step and kiss him again. It was gentle, and his hands caressed my hair, the side of my face, sliding down my body to rest on my hips and pull me in closer to him. I felt him hard against me; it was kind of a thrill to realize  _I’d_  done that. My hands slid under his shirt. His skin was soft over hard muscle; I hadn’t realized how fit he was before now, but the realization seeped in as his arms slid around me, those biceps squeezing ever so slightly as he suddenly lifted me up and tossed me back onto the bed. My shirt came up, and I lifted myself up a bit to help him get it off; his other hand was snaking behind my back to unhook my bra. Both garments were unceremoniously tossed across the room. His shirt came next, and I realized he was kind of hypnotized staring at my chest. “What?” I asked, feeling a little panicked, like maybe I had some weird growth or whatever.

“You’re… stunning, Emma,” was all he said.

That was the first time he’d said my name.

My heart was racing as he leaned over me, softly kissing his way down my neck, my shoulders, collarbone, and finally my chest. And then I couldn’t breathe, because his lips were on me, and there was flame and starlight bursting inside as he swirled his tongue around one breast, then the other, sucking and pulling me taut. Discovering myself and what I liked had been  _nothing_  like this, or you’d never get me out of my room again.

My legs seemed to be squeezing together by themselves, trying to get to that peak, stoking the flames within; I needed something, any kind of relief. “Killian,” I gasped. “Killian, please, down further, I need…”

His eyes met mine as he sucked one nipple particularly hard and I threw my head back, stuffing my arm in my mouth to keep the whole house from hearing me. He let me go with a wet popping, and made quick work of my jeans. “Tell me how you like it, love,” he requested, kneeling before me.

“Start slow,” I said. “Rub gently along the sides of the clit, two fingers, one on each side, and build up from there.”

He was a fast learner, and the different angle of his fingers had my back practically bowing off the bed. He was kissing my thighs, my hipbones, and when his fingers stopped I wanted to kick him—until he used them to part me further and were replaced by his tongue. I had to grab a pillow to stifle the noise:  _how_  was he a virgin, how was it  _this good_ , how did anyone else do  _anything_  with their lives when they could be eaten out like this… and then his tongue was inside me, and I couldn’t keep it together any longer. He held on to my hips and tongue-fucked me through my orgasm, my legs around his head to keep him there.

When I finally,  _finally_ , stilled, he came up to kiss me. He was covered in me, and I laughed, licking my own essence from his lips. “You sure you never did this before?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

“I’m a very good student,” he said. He kissed me again. “I like the sound of my name when you come.”

I smiled, and shoved him back onto the pillows. “Your turn.”

I slid his jeans off, where they joined mine. I wasn’t particularly educated in penile size or shape, but he wasn’t small, and he was definitely European. “You’re gonna have to help me out here,” I said.

Killian chuckled. “Best like this, love,” he took my hand and placed it on him, my fingers ringing the base of the tip. “There’s a girl, now squeeze just a little…” he sucked in a breath, “like that… pull the skin up over the… Oh God, Emma…”

He wasn’t the only quick learner. His hands fisted in the quilt, and there was a delicious kind of thrill from watching his face contort like that, his breathing erratic, just from my ministrations to his cock. I smiled, wondering… fair was fair, after all. I leaned down, and took him fully into my mouth, and he thrust up so hard he almost hit the back of my throat. “ _Fuck_ , Emma!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” I teased, my spit making the handy easier, “but someone isn’t behaving.”

I took him into my mouth again, bobbing my head up and down, trying to do with my lips what I’d done with my hand and his foreskin. “Emma,” he rasped. “Emma, love, off, off now or I’m not gonna last much longer.”

I made a mental note to come back to that another time, and got off him, grabbing the condom and the lube and making quick work of both. He was wrecked, breathing heavily, sweat shining on his skin. “How do you want to do this, love?” He asked.

“I’ve read it’s… not as bad for a girl, the first time, on top,” I said.

He smirked half-heartedly. “Hop on then, darling.”

I shoved my nerves aside, and positioned him, and sank slowly on top of him. Killian was breathing hard again, his head thrown back. I grit my teeth a little; it was a bit uncomfortable, but not as bad as everyone made it out to be. Just… not something my body was used to. “You still there?” I asked softly when he was fully inside.

He nodded, apparently unable to speak. I waited a few moments, letting my body adjust. I kissed his chest while I did so, and his hand came up to run through my hair.

I began to move slowly; Killian’s breaths came out harsh. I braced myself against his chest, and his hips thrust to meet mine. As I went faster, I was honestly surprised he was still with me, but when I said something, he bit out, “Waiting on you, love. Gentleman and all.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Bollocks,” was his only retort before he sat up fully , his head buried in my chest and sucking on my breasts again.

It was easier to fuck him this way, I found; and damn if the warmth in my belly didn’t kindle up again thanks to the— _oh, fuck_ —way he was leaving hickeys all over my chest. And then one of his hands was cupping my ass, helping me bounce on him, and the other went to my clit, and I could only whimper into his shoulder, “Coming, coming, oh _, fuck_ , Killian,” and he was whispering, “Emma, Emma, Emma” and my orgasm hit hard just as he stilled under me, my thrusts of pleasure extending his.

I don’t remember much after that. I recall Killian slipping out to a bathroom, and the sound that came in told us that there was a good chance no one had heard us, and then he was back, and I had put on my shirt and panties and that was it.

The next thing I remember was my dad calling my cell phone at four in the morning, and having to explain why I hadn’t let him know where I was.

It was a good thing Killian didn’t snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned a lot about uncircumcised penises for this one. The more you know!
> 
> (this is currently being expanded on and will be reposted as a multi-chapter)


	5. Slow and Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested a sequel to chapter 2, where their next time is slow.
> 
> Swapping between POVs because why not.

An elephant sat on her shoulders, or the tension of her day had become that strenuous—at this point, Emma would take either explanation. At least the elephant might have knocked her out of her misery.

When she entered Granny’s, he was at her side in an instant. “You’ve got your murder face on, love,” Killian told her, placing his hand at her waist and guiding her to the booth where her family sat.

"I don’t have a murder face," Emma protested.

"Well, I haven’t  _seen_  you murder anyone unfortunate enough to cross your path when you’re in this state, but I fancy you’d look something like you do now,” he explained.

"You’ve never seen me murder anyone. I’ve never murdered anyone!"

"Aye, and while it might be a thrilling sight to behold, you’d still wear that face."

"Look," she turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest to stop him, "before we get over there and get too comfortable, I’m calling in that promise of next time. Tonight. As soon as it can be managed."

Her voice dropped as she spoke, and he looked bewildered for a moment, before the light bulb clicked on. There was the devilish grin, the one that promised everything and none of it family-safe. “Oh are you now?”

Emma glanced around the packed room quickly, heat rising in her cheeks. “Everyone in this diner knows that look on your face, Killian,” she hissed.

He leaned close, and pecked her on the cheek. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”

“ _If I have murder face, you have sex face!_ ”

He merely smiled, and led her to their table.

*~*

After enduring the most excruciating hour of pleasantries with the royals, and Henry was safely ensconced with the queen, Emma drove them back to her new home. The fact that he spent more time there than in his room at the inn was not something lost on him, but he was waiting for her to bring up any thought of making it official. Small steps with his Swan.

She rounded on him again as soon as they were in the door, her hands clutching his lapels like a lifeline as she crushed his lips against hers. His hand automatically went into her hair—he never tired of the feel of her silky tresses against him—and he enjoyed the frantic need she had of him until the back of his mind reminded him of his promise to her. He pulled back with more than a bit of regret. “Much as I am loathe to stop you, love, I believe slow was the promise,” he murmured.

Emma huffed. He grinned. He sent her to undress in the bedroom, telling her he’d call for her when he was ready. She arched an eyebrow at that, but did as she was bid.

When he heard the door close, Killian went to the bathroom and filled the clawfoot tub. There were potions that made the water frothy and smell nice—if a tad overpowering to his nose, but Emma seemed to like them on the rare occasion when she could take a long bath.

He shucked off his jacket after turning the tap off, and draped it over the hanger on the back of the door; his waistcoat and shirt joined it. Shoes and socks were discarded on his way to claim his lady love from her room.

*~*

There was a knock at the door. Emma smiled: ever the gentleman. She opened it to reveal him leaning against the wall, dressed only in his jeans. Her eyes widened, despite herself—and she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. His eyes raked over her hungrily; they were dark when they met hers. “Your pampering awaits, milady.”

He led her down the hall; the sound of the tap running had been enough to ease the tension in her muscles, and now the added scent of her bath oils and soaps sent soothing waves of calm down her back. “What, no candles?” She asked, throwing a look over her shoulder at him.

He smiled ruefully. “Apologies, love, I didn’t have any matches.”

"Geez," Emma demurred, one hand going to the waistband of his jeans, "I gotta do everything around here."

She flicked her wrist, and the candle flames sprang to life. His lips captured hers in a slow, gentle caress. She worked the zipper loose on his jeans, and slid her hands across the skin of his hips. “Can’t have you joining me like this,” she murmured against him.

"Water’s getting cold, love."

She stepped away, giving him room to strip—one of these days she was going to have to introduce him to the concept of a strip tease. She had a feeling he would not only be open to the idea, but completely  _revel_  in performing one—and stepped into the tub. She sank into the soapy water with a happy sigh. “Okay, I’m good,” she said, tilting her head back. “Thank you, you've done enough.”

He snorted. “Budge up, darling, the fun hasn’t even started yet.”

"Says you."

She did move up a little, allowing him to slide in behind her. She rested against him, his half-hard cock pressing into her back. “Aye, says me, and you’ll agree with me shortly,” he murmured, kissing her ear and biting the lobe before moving down.

Emma keened as his lips moved up and down her neck. His fingers drew shapes lightly across her stomach, dipping down to tease the peak of her mound but never entering her folds. Eventually his hand came up to her shoulders. He nudged her forward, and she drew a shaky breath when he began kneading the knots out of her muscles. "Oh,  _fuck_..."

Killian chuckled. "So impatient. All in due time, Swan."

For a guy with one hand, he made a fantastic masseuse; he seemed to know exactly where all of her stress centered, leaving nothing but pure bliss in his wake. Emma was certain she'd never moaned as loudly during sex as she did now, and every decibel was justly earned. When he was done, his arm came around her and pulled her against him, just sitting together and enjoying the feel of being together.

"Killian?" Emma murmured after a while.

"Mmm?" His soft voice was in her ear, his cheek resting against her head.

She didn't want to open her eyes, and ruin the moment, stop existing in this perfect bubble of _being_... but... "The water's getting cold."

"Then by all means, we should continue our evening elsewhere," he whispered sensually.

She shivered; from the chill or the effect his words had on her, she wasn't certain. She opened the drain while he got out first to dry off; she took over for him, drying him off slowly. She knelt to get his legs, and his cock was standing at attention at her eye level. She glanced up at him with a smirk. "Swan..." Killian raised an eyebrow. "You know you don't have to--" he broke off with a cry as she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before pulling him in as deep as he would go.

She'd been gifted with a relatively low gag reflex, and as a result Emma idly wondered if she'd need to have the countertop redone. She swore she heard his knuckles crack, white as they were, as she bobbed her head along his thick cock. "Swan---Swan, love---oh, gods---Swan you need to---"

She hummed in acknowledgement, and it sent him over the edge; she swallowed it all, grimacing just a tad at the taste, and gently pulled off of him. His chest heaved. Few times though this had been, Emma loved seeing him so undone. "You were saying?"

"Up," he growled.

He swatted her bottom as he nudged her out the door and to the bedroom.

*~*

Gods, this woman was going to be the death of him.

His recovery time was the stuff of legends back in his world, but this was the land without magic, and he was a one-Swan man. And he'd promised her slow, aggravating as it might be and as much as he wanted to take her against the wall, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her again and again until they both collapsed from their pleasure.

Damn his mind.

He lay her out on the bed, her damp hair sticking to her skin. "Slow," he told her, and kissed her gently.

He worshipped her neck, bathed her collarbones, had her take his fingers into her mouth--the sensation much like the assault on his cock not long before--so he could roll and pleasure her breast between them while he lapped, nipped, and teased the other with his mouth.

She writhed beneath his ministrations, her little gasps and mewls composing the sweetest music he'd ever heard. She whined when he left her chest; he smirked, nosing her skin as his tongue dipped into her belly button, before he came to rest between her thighs.

Her breathing was shallow, tense and waiting for what he would do next. "Now you're going and undoing all of my hard word, love," he complained, kissing her creamy thigh.

Emma laughed. "I'm not the one out for taking me apart at the seams, buddy."

"Relax, Swan," he told her, nosing her curls.

"Easy for you to sayyyy--" she drew out the last syllable into a whine as he drew his tongue up her slit in a long lick.

Killian parted her with his fingers, tasting her sweetness; the way her legs clamped around him, her hands dragging through his hair, her moans filling the room told him she was climbing higher towards the peak. He lapped at the bundle of nerves that make her stifle her cries with her arm. "I want to hear you, Swan..." he murmured in a sing-song.

When his tongue entered her, her lusty cries echoed in his ears. Her hands left him to clench at the sheets, and he returned to licking her nub, his fingers entering her, coaxing that little spot just inside... She wailed, and her body thrashed against him. He fucked her through her orgasm until she stilled against him, drawing his fingers out and licking them in front of her. "You're delicious, love."

She brought his face to hers in a bruising kiss. He chuckled, and positioned himself at her entrance. She moaned into him as he slid into her warm heat. "You feel exquisite..." he murmured against her lips.

He began to move; he rested his forehead against her shoulder, bracing himself up on his good arm to give her a better angle. She sighed longingly as he lazily thrust in and out of her. "Killian..."

"Mmm?"

"I love you, and I love all of this, but honey if either of us is gonna come tonight, you gotta pick up the pace."

He laughed against her shoulder. "As the lady insists."

She inhaled sharply as his hips snapped into hers. Her nails dug into his back; he was going to have new scars by tomorrow. Her legs went around him, pulling him in further with each thrust. She was so warm, so tight...

Despite each coming before, the peak wasn't far off, and she whimpered her release against his chest. He sagged, pulling out cautiously, and collapsed next to her. "Fast enough for you, Swan?"

She sighed happily. "Perfect."


	6. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked "cs smut- emma wakes killian in the most delicious way, bj and emma riding killian ;)

He was always awake. She always supposed it was the military man, the captain, in him that was up until all hours making sure of the safety of his crew and then up again with the dawn to oversee them again. She’s awakened to see him watching her more times than she can count, always with that look of tenderness that used to scare her to her very core—so intense, so sincere, so filled with _love_. And always, every morning without fail, he smiles in that way that makes her heart flip over, hugs her to him, kisses the top of her head, and whispers “Good morning”.

So, predictably, when Emma woke up, a little jolt of panic shot through her chest to see Killian sleeping still. It wasn’t until she’d rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart thrumming away for a good five minutes, feeling him rise and fall beneath her as he breathed, that she calmed down. She always feared some repercussion of having his heart removed and restored—despite her ‘stern warning’ to Gold about such things (she had no idea why Mary Margaret laughed when she called it a stern warning, it was. No one had actually been killed. Yet) Emma lay with her head on his chest for a while, the melody of his breathing and heartbeat almost enough to soothe her back to sleep.

And yet.

There had been one morning, several weeks ago, when he’d woken her with his face between her legs, his tongue slipping inside of her and out, up along her clit, and back in, waking her with a gasp and then a cry as her orgasm washed over her.

There was something to be said about starting your morning off with an orgasm.

Emma smiled wickedly to herself. She carefully slid down the bed, trying not to move the covers off of him; she didn't want him to wake up before it was necessary.

She lightly dragged her nails across his well-defined pelvic muscles; it wasn't fair, really, how good he looked. Well, scratch that. To everyone else it wasn't fair: these were hers. Her tongue flicked out, lapping at the ridges; above her, she heard Killian breath in sharply, moaning a little in his sleep. Emma smiled as his cock stiffened slightly. "Good morning..." she whispered, and grasped it gently.

`She ran her tongue up the thick vein on its underside. Killian shifted under her. She swirled her tongue around the head; a wordless mumble sounded above her. She drew him in slowly, very lightly drawing her teeth along his length before bobbing up and down, opening her throat and taking him in deep. He thrashed under her once, the unconscious moan louder, sounding like, " _Emma_..."

She tightened her lips, pulling just the tip in and out of her mouth, pumping the shaft with her fist. He jerked, crying out, and then his hand was in her hair, and she knew he was awake when he pulled hard; the sensation sent fire into her own loins, and she followed the pull of him up out from under the covers. "Bloody hell, woman..." he rasped.

She grinned. "Good morning."

Emma straddled him, not done with him quite yet; she positioned him at her entrance and sheathed him within her; she moaned at the feel of him, filling her completely. He choked out her name as she began to rock, thrusting her hips against his; his hand jumped from her bouncing breasts to rubbing her clit, her name ripping from his repeatedly like a prayer " _Emma, Emma, Emma_..."

"Close, I'm so close..."

"Snow me, love, I want to see you come for me."

" _Fuck_..."

Emma palmed her own breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers until he grabbed her arm and pulled her down over him, capturing one nipple between his lips and sucking _hard_ \--Emma muffled a scream as she rocked her hips into his harder, his thrusts matching hers.

He let her go and pulled her to him, their lips crashing together as he shuddered against her, the kiss muting his moans as he came. Emma jerked against him, her own orgasm seconds behind.

She lay on top of him when they relaxed, still joined. He dragged his fingers through her hair lazily. She smiled, listening to his heartbeat slow to  it's normal pace. "Not that I'm complaining, love, but what's the occasion?" Killian asked, his accent honeyed over with satiated lust.

"You were sleeping," Emma said simply.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath her, making her bounce. "Remind me to sleep in more often."


	7. Phone Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: "Captain Swan phone sex? Pleeeaase?"

Emma’s phone buzzed. She ignored it. She was busy, going over two weeks worth of patrol reports—hey, in a town as sleepy as Storybrooke, it wasn’t like she needed to do it every day. And the sooner she could get those done, the sooner she could… get to the month’s worth that she’d been putting off before that. Okay, things had been busy on the Fairy Tale Investigation Unit side of her life, she’d been letting regular sheriff duties slide, sue her. She was doing it now. No interruptions. Seriously.

The phone buzzed again. Her eyes slid to it, a tempting distraction from paperwork. No, this needed to get done. She neatened the stack of papers to prove to herself how serious she was about getting this done. Six weeks of backlogged paperwork was an embarrassment to everyone involved. Emma made her marks, a little firmer than necessary, and went to the next page. Another incident report about Grumpy overindulging at The Rabbit Hole again… they really needed to find something for the dwarves to do, if Grumpy was falling off the wagon…

Her phone buzzed a third time. Emma bit the inside of her cheek. Okay, one minute, see what was going on, and then back to paperwork.  _Really_.

She flicked through to her messages. All three were from Killian—for a guy with one hand, he was adept at the whole texting thing.

Message one:  _Are you still at the station?_

Message two:  _Stupid question, you only ignore me when you are._

Message three:  _Bloody hell, Swan, I am bored._

He had every right to be, she thought. There was an early winter cold running through town. The curses had done a lot for magically protecting the citizens of Storybrooke from most modern maladies, but Killian hadn’t come over in any curse. Whale, Mary Margaret, and Emma had all ganged up on him: until he was up to speed on vaccinations, Killian would simply have to wait out any illnesses in quarantine. This meant a lot of time in his room at Granny’s—Emma, who couldn’t remember the last time she’d been sick, brought him stacks of books from the library to read and entertained him whenever she could. Ruby kept him fed too, something about werewolf genes meaning she couldn’t get sick either. Between the two of them, they managed to keep him in reasonably well spirits… until the inevitable crash.

Which was now. Books read cover-to-cover, no pretty girls to tease, the pirate was going to start climbing the walls soon.

 ** _Still_   _working_** , Emma typed.  _ **I’m behind.**_

She set the phone down, and went back to reports. This was going to get done _today_. She marked off another page before he replied. Emma pursed her lips… and then grabbed her phone to look.  _I’d like to get behind you._

Emma burst out laughing, thankful for the first time that she was the only one in the office today. David poking his head in and asking her what was so funny was  _not_  something she felt like explaining. She typed out a reply,  _ **Oh, I’m sure you would.**_

She set it aside again. Paperwork! Done! Today! For real! However… she was sure she was going to get a novel in response, having gotten through two full days of reports before checking to make sure she hadn’t missed a response, when the phone rang instead. “Swan. I’m sure you can appreciate that a man in my predicament cannot please himself and respond to you in a textual manner,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

Emma chuckled. “What, Captain Hook is afraid to learn how to sext?”

"How to what?"

"Sex and texting mashed together. You send pictures… there’s a whole thing."

His voice dropped an octave. “Send me what kind of pictures, Swan?”

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" She asked, her own voice dropping.

"As a matter of fact, I would," he growled.

She smiled. Well, this was going to be infinitely more entertaining than backlogged paperwork. She twisted her hand in the direction of the outer door, locking it magically, and leaned back in her chair. “I could show you what color my bra is, or what kind of panties I’m wearing. Or I could show you what it looks like after I take those off.”

His breathing hitched. “It seems I have severely misjudged these ridiculous talking devices…”

If he only knew. “So, how you doing over there?”

"You know bloody well how I’m doing, Swan," he said, and he sounded further away; he must have put her on speaker and set her on the bed.

"And how can I help with that?"

"We were just getting started a bit ago, love."

Emma hummed. “What, you getting behind me? I think that’s getting a bit ahead of ourselves.”

"Then, pray, tell me how we got there," Killian purred.

Well well. The captain had played this sort of game before. Perhaps people didn’t change at all, Emma mused, just the means of communication did over the years. She worked a crick out of her neck; it had been a long time since she’d done anything remotely like this, she might be a bit rusty at it. “You aren’t the only one who was bored today.”

"Aren’t I?"

"Nope. I’ve been stuck in my office all day. Just me. All alone. Nothing but papers all over my big desk… My really big desk…"

Killian panted, “And what of that big desk, love?”

"Nothing, just noting its size. Though I was very bored today, so my mind wandered..." Emma paused. She liked phone sex, but she found that it was awkward talking like this. "I thought about you coming over here. It's been quiet, so nothing really important is in our way... Dad's not here often... But, even if Dad did come in, I do have this really big desk."

Killian chuckled. "Oh, I like this, Swan."

"It's got plenty of room for someone, oh say... a pirate to fit under and remain unseen."

"There is one flaw, love, and that's the fact that were your father to come round the door, he'd definitely see your trousers round your ankles. And while I love to live dangerously, I'd rather not be strung up by my guts, thanks all the same."

Emma hummed again, causing him to growl at her to knock it off. "True. We'll have to figure that one out another time. Anyway, you're under my desk and I'm trying to work, and somehow you've got my pants off and your face buried in my snatch."

His breathing hitched again, and his laugh was breathy. She pictured him running a long lick up his palm before stroking himself, lightly grasping his length yet squeezing just enough to pop the head in the way she'd seen so many times but couldn't quite master. "You aren't _that_  distracting though, so I get through a lot of my work before you push my chair back to get out from under the desk and kiss me hard."

"You can taste yourself on my lips..." Killian breathed, and the jagged edge to it told her he'd started jerking faster.

"I can, because I'm all over your face. And then you pull me up and tell me that I've been a very bad girl and that I need to be punished," she teased.

He grunted. There were many things about modern sex that Killian enjoyed very much--some of Emma's roleplaying fantasies weren't always on that list. She chuckled. "Sorry."

"Carry on, Swan."

"This is the part where you get behind me, because you've bent me over the desk."

"Arse or cunt?" He panted.

Emma almost pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. "You are not fucking me in the ass without lube, buster."

He grunted again; she'd have to save that talk for later, when he was paying attention. "Right, well... I'm bent over the desk, and you're going to town  _not in my ass_ , and then I'm begging you for more; you rip open my shirt and my bra with your hook, and your hand is on my boob and it feels really great, but I need more. I'm  _begging_  you for more, Killian, please, I  _need_ \--"

"My hook on you," he could barely speak. She imagined the look on his face, screwed up in concentration and pleasure.

"Yes," Emma breathed, getting into it finally. "You let me take it and rub it against my clit, more friction, the cold metal feeling so good against my hot skin, all that heat from _you_ , what  _you_  did to me..."

"Emma..."

"I'm bracing myself on one elbow now, bending further so you hit that spot that makes my toes curl, you feel so good inside me--"

"Emma, love--"

"--and then I'm screaming your name--"

" _Emma!_ " He cried, and she smiled.

His breathing slowed from gulping gasps to normal, and then she heard grumbling about needing a cloth to clean himself. She heard a bit of banging around, and then he sounded much closer, "Sorry, love. Clean-up."

"It's okay. Feeling better?"

"Satiated," he told her, "for now. And what of you?"

Emma shifted in her chair; she felt warm, a little tingly, and definitely turned on. She liked watching him get himself off, but listening to his gasps and moans and inserting her own visuals was a whole other ball game. "I'm okay. I might need a little return on my investment, though."

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her, the smile she heard in his voice promised her an afternoon of fun.

"Let me finish a little more of this, and I'll be over," she promised.

He agreed, and she set her phone aside. Looking over the papers again, Emma sighed heavily. She gave up after one more report: concentrating on work was impossible when the man waiting for her could eat a woman out for hours and not even break a sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if anyone expected Emma to be very good at phone sex. She might be, someday, but she's more of an action girl than a wordy girl. (now, if Killian had known beforehand... well. That's another story entirely)


	8. Model/Photographer AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: "so uhh... can I get a smutty/smuffy twister (like the game) fic ;)"

Emma plunked the box down on the table. Killian glanced over at it. “What fresh hell is this, Swan?”

She smiled sweetly.  _This_  was her keystone. Oh, she’d tried other ways. Obscenely short skirts. Lingerie. Strutting around the apartment in nothing but one of his shirts and her tallest stilettos. But _nothing_ seemed to shake the coolly observant photographer. “This,” she said triumphantly, “is strip Twister.”

Their entire relationship seemed to be built on quiet and loving sex. Emma had no problems with quiet and loving sex—Killian seemed to be the first man who ever thought she was deserving of a little wining, dining, and wooing before bedding her, and she fully enjoyed and loved him for it—but the occasion arose where she wanted more. One night. Just _one night_ to unleash the pent-up sexual beast inside of him and she’d be happy. She knew it was there: the way he watched her sometimes, the way his jaw worked, or his hands balling into fists for a moment, but always a gentleman he remained. His control over himself was like iron, and she was determined to make that control rust.

She’d worn revealing outfits around the apartment, in public, used every ounce of her sexual charm… and he was still ever as careful and cautious with her as he’d been from the start. She doubted that photographing models for ten years had _completely_ burned the fires of lust out of him—after all, they wouldn’t be dating if they hadn’t met on a shoot a few years ago and he hadn’t asked her out as soon as the contract was over—but even after moving in and living together for more than a year, he still remained cautious around her. Sexually, that is—normally, neither of them had a problem taking the other to the wall in a fight (who knew make-up sex could be sweet?) and often.

Killian arched an eyebrow at her from over his laptop. Emma slid in next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You work too much,” she told him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“And Vogue wants this batch done by Friday, _a ghrá_.”

They’d been dating for almost four years and he’d called her every pet name in the book, but it warmed her to the core every time he spoke to her in his native Irish. “Which is two whole days away,” she pointed out, stroking his cheek. “This is just an hour of simple fun; get that tension out of your shoulders.”

She mentally crossed her fingers at the lie—she _hoped_ it was going to be a lie. His mouth tightened for a moment. She toyed idly with the hair at the base of his neck. Killian reached over and closed his laptop. “Alright then, Swan. We’ll play your game.”

Emma grinned and bounced up off the couch. She asked him to move the coffee table over so she could spread the mat on the floor, and set up the spinner. “Alright, Irish,” she began, “you choose a color, and then if the spinner lands on your color, you have to take something off.”

“Fair enough,” Killian said, joining her.

“One other rule,” Emma said. He quirked his eyebrow at her again in a question. She hoped her grin wasn’t as devilish as it felt. “No touching outside of gameplay.”

His jaw clenched briefly, replaced by. “Ladies first.”

“Red,” she said.

“Blue,” he grinned.

It was a long-running joke, how alike they were but how completely opposite at the same time: even their favorite colors. Emma spun and landed on right foot green. Killian had left hand blue. He gave her a look as he shrugged out of his button-down, revealing the black undershirt still tucked into his belted pants. Emma bit her lip to keep from swooning at the sight: years of hauling his own camera equipment had toned his biceps and filled out his shoulders into artful curves. Even after so many years together, she still drooled at such a perfect set of arms. The package was sealed when he had to bend over for his turn, his butt perfectly shaped by his tailored pants. “Enjoying the view, Swan?” Killian asked.

He knew her so well. “Might be,” she said, spinning.

Right hand yellow. Right foot blue. Killian got up a bit to work his belt off. “ _A mhuirnín_ , you rigged me.”

“How?” Emma asked as he bent down again. “I’m using the same spinner.”

“I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out.”

Their faces were close; Emma leaned over and pecked him on the mouth with a quick kiss, flashing a grin before she spun. He eyed her. “The objective is not to fall over, correct?”

“Yeah, but kisses don’t make you fall over,” she said as the spinner landed left foot red.

Killian breathed out slowly, a muttered Irish curse on his tongue as she stood and stripped off her sweater. She switched yellow dots to more comfortably slide her left leg under his body for a red dot. He huffed, and reached across her for the spinner. “Doing okay?” Emma asked.

“Fine.”

Right hand green. He leaned further over her body, their hands now neighbors. She spun a left hand green, and settled comfortably into her awkward split. His breath tickled the skin on her stomach as he spun again, left hand yellow, and he arched her perfectly now. Emma spun, and had to briefly get up to remove her jeans before settling into her full-body spread over the greens and reds, having turned over and her lace-covered ass sticking up in the air under him for all and her boyfriend to ogle.

She turned slightly and saw his jaw clenching, heard another bit of Irish, and then his left foot finally joined the game.

It was awkward grace, the way they slipped around each other, arms sliding under legs, legs tangling, more clothing lost—Emma was down to just her lacy panties by the time Killian stripped off his undershirt. He’d grown redder and sweatier in the last ten minutes; she was sure she was in no better shape, but it was definitely hotter to watch him get more flustered when her almost-nude body passed close to him, her breasts heaving close to his scruffy jaw when he forgot himself. “Swan,” he panted, “do we lose if we fall, or if we lose all of our clothing?”

“Fall. Definitely falling,” she said, and spun again.

“Of course…” he mumbled, and she had to untangle herself to remove her panties.

She took great pride in the heavy exhale he emitted. He spun again, and frowned deeply as he attempted to figure out how to position his right foot crossing both himself and her. She thought for a moment that he’d make it, until he wobbled and then she was crushed under his weight on the floor. She burst out laughing, and he scrambled to pick himself up, “Oh, love, I’m so sorry—”

“Killian!” She pulled him back down to her. “It’s okay. I’m fine, I won’t break.”

He searched her face. She thumbed his chin, and gripped it lightly. “I’m _fine_.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Emma released him to stroke his cheek again. He was good to her, good _for_ her, when so many in the past had used her and left her. The modeling world was small, word traveled fast. He’d known bits of her story before they’d met, as she’d known his—both had scars and stories of agents and partners best left untold. It had taken a while for them to lower their walls past the initial attraction, but they’d done wonders for each other; wounds were healed, new foundations laid. He treated her well, respected her, standing by her side as an equal instead of in front of her or like she was arm candy for an event. She held immense pride in him and his work; he teased her when she bragged about him, the model boasting about the photographer. Emma cupped his cheek. “I know. And I love you for that. But Killian, I swear to God if you do not play rough tonight we aren’t having sex for a month.”

He blinked several times. “ _A ghrá_ , you have much higher expectations for your lust to remain satiated than I do.”

She blew a raspberry. “Oh please. I can totally hold out.”

He hummed in disbelief, and rolled suddenly, flipping her to lie on top of him. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A while now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. “I’ve been sending out signals for weeks, Killian. The lingerie, the skirts, the heels, the—”

He put a finger to her lips. “And why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

Her mouth set in a stubborn line. “Don’t laugh. I kind of really wanted you to just take me in a manly fashion.”

Killian stuttered for a moment under her, and she prepared herself to scold him for laughing, and then he said, in a sort of strangled tone, “Swan, you quote some soppy love story at me and we _really_ won’t have sex for a month, because I’ll be too busy laughing to try and have at it. But,” he put a finger to her lips to stop her protest, “I shall take heed of your desires, and should it ever again strike your fancy to strut about in one of my shirts and those shoes of yours again, please feel free to.”

She struggled not to smile, but one broke out anyway. “Did you really fall, or did you fall on purpose because I was spread-eagle and naked underneath you?”

He leaned up and captured her lips in a kiss. She melted against him, heat pooling in her belly as his hand slid down her side to cup her bare flank. He rested his forehead against hers when they broke. “A gentleman never reveals all of his secrets, _a mhuirnín._ ”

She sat up, grinding her bare hips across his underwear-clad goin. He grimaced, throwing his head back. Emma stood, and offered a hand to him. “Come on, Irish, there’s a bed that needs newly christened.”

They clasped hands and she hauled him up; then she was swept off her feet, thrown over his shoulder. “Killian!”

“Emma!” He mimicked her American accent in a falsetto, laughing, and carried her off to their bedroom.

She was unceremoniously tossed onto the mattress. He stripped himself of his last remaining piece of clothing, and joined her, crawling over her body to kiss her lips. She sighed with happiness when he went immediately to her breast, his scruff scraping her skin red, his mouth hot on her skin, his teeth firm but gently tugging her nipples to attention. He sucked at her skin until she was covered in red spots. He went to the apex of her thighs, but she grabbed at his hair, “No. Just—as I am. Take me now, please,” she begged.

He raised an eyebrow, but she nodded enthusiastically as he came up to her. Butterflies flew in her stomach, but she wanted him _now_. No prep, just primal _need_. She kissed him hard, and pushed him away, rolling over onto her stomach. “Take me hard and fast.”

She didn’t raise herself up. He took her by the hips, edging her up just a bit so he could enter her. She bit her lip, groaning deep in her throat, her hands fisting the quilt as he stretched her; her body was now used to thorough pampering before the main event, but this was rawer. It hurt in a good way, and his thick cock pressed her insides in a way that her clit had pressure from both his cock and the mattress under her. He draped his body over her, and began to move, his tongue tracing patterns over her back. Emma moaned and gasped as her body readjusted to this way of fucking. One of his hands snaked under her to play with her breast.

His cock pressed her clit against her skin, pressured against the mattress in a delicious way she’d almost forgotten. “Faster… harder, please…” she whimpered, and he chuckled against her skin, picking up the pace.

Their hips slammed together. “Pull my hair,” she gasped; he wound his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck, tugged, and pleasure-pain ripped through her scalp.

“Mark me,” she groaned as she felt the coil of heat wind deep inside her. “Tell me I’m yours, I’m claimed.”

“Mine,” he growled. Heat—how was there any coolness left in her?—flushed through her at the darkness in his tone. His teeth grazed the skin of her shoulder. “You’re _mine_ , Emma. No one else fucks you like I do, _a mhuirnín._ No one else ever could, could they? You’re made for me: your sopping cunny just for me, from what I do to you. No one else can ever taste you, know your body, the feel of your tits bouncing as I fuck you, the sweet pleasures I can pillage from you. You are _mine_ , your pleasure is _mine_ , your tight little arse in those panties and heels is a sight for _me_ alone.”

Then he bit down hard as the coil released and she cried out her pleasure as her orgasm washed over her. He rode her through it, and stilled as he came, his seed spilling inside her. He licked at the teeth marks he’d left on her, goosebumps rippling down her body as she drifted down from her high. She whimpered as he pulled out and went to get a washcloth.

Killian cleaned her up, and then came back to bed. She rolled over into his embrace, sighing happily. “Better, love?” He asked.

She grinned, and kissed his nose. “It’s a start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't recommend going at it without foreplay, fyi.
> 
> A ghra = love  
> A mhuirnin = darling


	9. Strip Poker/Body Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two anon prompts combined:  
> 1\. Emma introduces Killian to strip poker  
> 2\. Body shots, with the condition of moving to another surface in their new apartment with Killian still inside her

"I don’t see why we’re playing a ruddy card game when dice are so much simpler."

She readjusted her seat and dealt their cards. “Because this is more fun.”

Emma owned a set of dice that likely weren’t what he had in mind, but would likely earn his stamp of approval in short order. Those were for another night. Tonight, she thought while reaching back for the shot glasses and the plate of lemons, was for getting drunk, literally beating the pants off her boyfriend, and seeing where the night took them. The last few weeks alone were enough of a reason for sloppy-drunk makeouts, not that one needed reasons, but celebrating a new apartment was a good enough  _real_  reason. Even if there was no furniture. “Okay, so five card draw, fours and nines are wild. Twos give you an extra. If you run out of chips, you can bet a piece of clothing for ten more. Ten chips can also buy something back. If someone wins three rounds in a row, they have to do a shot off of the loser,” she said, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of tequila, thunking it on the floor next to them.

Killian grinned wolfishly. “It’s bad form for a man to take advantage of a woman under the influence, Swan,” he told her.

She smiled. “Your faith in my ability to win is sweet, but I also know how to lose on purpose.”

"Bit of a card sharp, are you?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, wondering where he’d picked that up. Killian took three cards from where they’d fixed them to his false hand and laid them on the floor. “We have words where I come from too, love. Three, please.”

"Begging already?" She teased, dealing him in, and taking her turn.

"You wish. Three-of-a-kind."

"Straight," Emma laid out her cards. "Lose the waistcoat."

They’d agreed on five articles of clothing each. Emma restacked her chips, shuffled, and dealt again. In good faith, when she won again two turns later, she decided to take advantage of her shirtless-and-sockless pirate reclining carelessly on the floor and break open the bottle of tequila. She poured herself a generous amount. “I trust you know how this one goes,” Emma told him.

"I’ve participated a time or two," he grinned, and she stuck a lemon between his teeth.

His eyes watered a bit and there were garbled curses coming from behind the wedge, but Emma ignored him and dragged her tongue up his collarbone to the joint of his neck and shoulder. She tossed some salt down, and toasted him briefly before licking up the salt, tossing the shot back, and capturing the lemon between her teeth, the sourness easing the burn of liquor.

Killian’s breaths came short and heady as her tongue worked its way up his skin; he hissed at the sourness of the lemon when her lips hit his, masking the smoky taste of the tequila. He pulled away briefly to spit the lemon out, and muffled her “Hey!” with another kiss. She pulled back after another moment, grinning. “Still gotta kick your ass.”

He got better as they continued; after he lost his pants—the captain was a boxer-briefs man—Killian bought back his shirt, which he’d nonchalantly left unbuttoned, and she purposely lost the third hand that allowed him to finally take a shot of his own. “I do quite like the set, darling,” he nodded to her matching black lace panties and bra—a girl never came unprepared to a tequila fight, after all.

"Thought you might," Emma said as he poured himself a shot.

He put a lemon wedge between her teeth, and gave her another wicked grin before licking up her thigh. Her breath hitched, then came the salt. She watched him slowly,  _slowly,_  (seriously, how slowly could one lick salt?), retrace his path; their eyes met for a moment and heat jolted through her belly. He kissed her lace-covered mound, threw the shot back like a pro, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and captured her mouth with his. She moaned when he sucked the juice from the lemon, her lips caught in the crossfire. “Not bad,” he murmured when they parted.

She tossed the pulped lemon back onto the plate, and dealt again. She grinned when she picked up her two new cards. ”Royal flush,” she said, laying her cards out.

"With two wild cards," Killian protested.

"Still counts. Now, this calls for something special. You’re losing the briefs,  _and_  you have to do another shot.”

He snorted. “It bloody well does not. No rules were ever stated that you get to dictate anything, particularly in the event of one of the rarest hands in cards.”

"Because I’m making this up as I go. Underwear, shot."

Killian glowered at her, and stood, twisting his way out of his boxer-briefs. Emma watched with interest as they were discarded. He knelt, pouring himself another shot as she grabbed another lemon, before bowing over her breast and swirling a circle over the mound peeking over the cup. He salted her, and lapped it up again, sucking hard on her flesh before downing the tequila and crushing her lips to his. There was only the barest hint of sucking before he bit into the lemon, ripped it from her teeth and spat it out, coming back to her hard.

Emma squeaked, falling back onto her elbows. “Mmm… Killian,” she murmured between kisses. “Game…”

"Don’t care…" He murmured against her lips, the force of his kisses pushing her back almost to the floor.

"Was… winning…"

"Fuck the game," he growled.

She leaned back, laying fully on the floor, a wicked glint in her eye. “I’d rather fuck you.”

That was all it took, and he was working her panties off and she was shoving his shirt down his arms. His head dipped down to her breasts again, roughly biting at her through the lace, taking one nipple between his lips and sucking hard, then the other. Emma mewled, arching, pushing herself further into him. His fingers slid between her wet folds, parting them enough to slide his thick cock into her. "So wet for me already, Emma," he rasped, ecstasy in his expression.

" _Fuck_ , Killian..."

"I intend to, darling."

He eased in and out slowly, teasing her. She whined. "I'm not drunk enough to put up with this shit, Killian, faster or get the fuck out of the way and let me do it myself."

"That's easily fixed."

She grit her teeth when he stopped. Bracing himself on his elbow, he dragged the liquor and the garnishes over. He poured her a generous shot. "You know what to do," Killian told her, handing her the salt before putting a lemon between his teeth.

She got up on her elbows, licked the crook of his neck, salted it, and reached back to bring up the glass. He hissed, almost dropping the lemon on her when she lapped at his neck, hips involuntarily thrusting into her as she teased his one sensitive spot; she downed the tequila, sucked the lemon, and spat it out, pulling him down to meet her on the floor.

Killian thrust into her at an almost lazy pace, fingers threaded in hair, lips tasting skin, nerves singing at touches. Emma's blood was up as the liquor made her warmer. "Counter," she mumbled against him.

"What?"

"Kitchen. Fuck me on the counter."

He pitched to the side, rolling her on top of him. "Hold tight, love," was the only warning before she realized he was getting up; she wrapped her arms and legs around him tight. She moaned into his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen, each step thrusting himself into her further. He rested her against the cold surface; she leaned back, spreading her legs wider, opening herself to him.

His hands, real and fake, grasped her hips; _finally_ , he picked up the pace. Emma threw her head back, the feel of him slamming against her making her toes curl. "Let me hear you," he grunted when she held in a whine.

" _Yes_! God, _fuck_!"

"Name's--Killian," he managed, and she tried to fix it in her mind to swat at him later but then her world went hot and white as her orgasm overtook her and her knuckles cracked from gripping the counter too tightly.

He rode her through it, his face buried in her chest until he too came, her name on his lips repeatedly like a prayer. His shoulders heaved in tandem with her chest as they fought for breath..

Killian pulled out of her with some regret. "Ah, blast it..."

She grabbed the paper towels, cleaning herself up the best she could. He leaned on the counter next to her, his own head thrown back. They glanced at each other, and started laughing. "We still have half a bottle of tequila," she told him.

"Aye. And what plans have you for it?"

"We also have a brand new bed to break in."

The glint in his blue eyes matched the one she felt in her hazel ones. "You're on, Swan."


	10. Christening the Jolly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: "cs smut- after emma returns the jolly roger to killian, he takes her out for the weekend and takes her at the mast, helm, on deck, over his desk, etc... Very smutty please!"

She’s always amazed he can manage a ship the size of the Jolly on his own.

Emma leans on the rail, watching Storybrooke grow smaller and smaller as they head out to sea. She’s nervous about leaving ( _"Two days, love. The whole bloody town can’t get into that much trouble in two days."_ ) (she really, really hopes he’s right), but turning now and watching her pirate stalk the quarterdeck is quietly thrilling. She hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the sight the last time she had been aboard, and takes great pleasure in making up for it now.

Actually, she finds watching him pulling and tying ropes, turning the helm, and other nautical acts much more appealing in his modern clothes. The pirate gear is a turn-on, sure, but the modern button-down lends itself to being rolled at the cuffs several times, and showing off the way his forearms flex with every task. And she wouldn’t be able to see his shirt bunching and straining at the shoulder seams if he’d been wearing that leather duster. Or the way his waistcoat lifts to reveal his tucked-in shirt—because  _of course_  he tucks his button-downs in,  _of course_  someone taught him the proper way to dress to drive a woman insane. “Are you going to buy, milady, or merely content with lusting after my wares?”

God, she’s practically drooling, no wonder he called her on it.

”I didn’t know you were into role-playing,” she calls over the wind.

He looks at her quizzically, and she laughs, climbing the stairs to join him. “A game, you pretend to be someone else. Sometimes it makes it more fun.”

"Ah, a player’s game. Because a princess being kidnapped by a pirate isn’t thrilling enough," Killian says, a glint in his eye.

She gives him a once-over. “Here I thought I was coming along quietly.”

He moves behind her, turning her; Emma grabs the helm for support as he pulls their hips together.  _Jesus_ , he knows all the shortcuts to getting her turned on now. His lips are on her neck, under her ear, and he breathes, “Now, princess, the point of this weekend excursion is most definitely  _not_  to come quietly.”

Her knees go weak as he leisurely assaults her neck with kisses, whimpering when he nipped her, in absolutely no hurry at all to finish what he was starting. Asshole.

She pushed against him, grinding his harness against her ass. “Impatient, are we, princess?” he murmurs against her skin.

"Someone’s… taking his sweet-ass time…" Emma says, hissing as his hand moves up to up her breast.

Suddenly he’s gone, and her back is cold from the wind again. She’s white-knuckling the helm, tracking his movements with wide-eyes. He has the audacity to smirk at her. “I’m a patient man, love.”

Damn him.

* * *

When they finally drop anchor, she’s fairly sure they’re technically in Canada. But he activates the invisibility enchantment (“She keeps all magic that’s done to her.”) and all thoughts of border patrol fly away as he stalks back to her. He captures her mouth with his, cupping her face in his hands. “Killian…” she murmurs between kisses that leave her dizzy. “Killian, wait…”

He leaves her mouth free, kissing along her jawline, her ears, her neck, even her damn  _hair_. “Not helping,” Emma says breathlessly.

He pauses. “Quickly, Swan,” he tells her softly.

"Patience," she teases, eliciting a low sound from him that may have been a growl. "Just a thought… from earlier, the pirate-princess thing…"

Their eyes meet, and his face darkens when the lightbulb of understanding goes on. “Emma, are you sure?”

She’s had more than one fantasy about this—the taste of the captain during their trip to the past has fueled more than one session with the showerhead—and she nods. He rests his forehead against hers. She swallows hard. She wants this, she really does. “Just this once, okay?”

"Very well then." He takes a step back, and in a breath his entire demeanor changes. Heat zips through her entire body as she watches his stance, his posture, shit even the way he  _looks_  at her, shift and all of it transforms  _her_  pirate into  _the_  pirate. “On your knees for the captain,  _princess_.”

Oh this is interesting. She adopts her role almost too easily—maybe it’s something you’re born with after all. “A princess kneels for no one, captain, but a king.”

Killian—no,  _Hook_ —smirks at her. “And what is a captain but king of his own domain? As I said, milady. On. Your. Knees.”

Their eyes lock as she does so slowly, and he circles her, his boots thumping the deck hard. He passes his hand through her hair, pulling it ever so slightly. “What shall I do with you?” Hook muses. “A ransom, of course, but even the Princess of Misthaven should know that the captain takes the very best loot for himself…”

"My father will pay handsomely for my return, captain. Whatever you wish, it’s yours."

They break eye contact for the briefest of moments—Emma’s about to break a rib from trying not to laugh because David would sooner run him through if it came to that, and Killian knows it—before he steps in front of her again, bending before her to bring their faces level. “Whatever I wish, is it?”

"Yes," she breathes.

"And if I have a list of demands?"

"Every attempt will be made to meet them to your  _satisfaction_ , captain.”

She hears the metal of his buckle clink, and fights the urge to squirm in anticipation. He straightens, and begins to circle her again, a shark monitoring something it finds particularly interesting. “And what if the king is unable to, or rather  _unwilling_  to, part with what I demand?”

She tempers her own lust and says with some annoyance, “Captain, perhaps if we spoke plainly—”

"I have a very short list, milady," he interrupts her, completing his circle. "My demands begin and end with your lovely self, but the details. Now, the details are the interesting bit. How do you answer my ransom?"

Their eyes lock again, and Emma smirks. “You should know, captain, that a princess is willing and capable of making  _every_  sacrifice to protect her kingdom.”

Hook grins, sending shivers down her spine, and he frees himself from his jeans. “I don’t believe we’ll need to go quite that far, your highness. We’ll start here.”

She takes him into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his even as he closes them; his breathing comes hard as her tongue swirls around the tip and she takes him deep, dragging her teeth lightly along his length as she pulls back. His hips buck forward, and her lips tighten around him. His hand buries itself in her hair, and she bites a little harder as a warning, but he seems to be attempting to steady himself.

She reaches for his hips, but finds herself being pulled up by his hook, releasing him with a pop, and his lips are on hers, kissing her fiercely. The hook makes quick work of her shirt and bra—so _that’s_  why he’d told her not to wear or bring any nice clothes—and he’s pushing her back against the mast, tossing the shredded garments aside. The rope digs into her skin but she finds herself not caring so much when his tongue is on her breast, the cool air making it almost painfully hard when he switches to favor the other.

Emma whines when Hook leaves sloppy kisses down her stomach, pausing at her jeans for a moment to almost rip them open and forcing them down to her ankles. Then his tongue parts her, delves between her folds, and Emma finds herself gripping the ropes to stay upright. “Killian…” she repeats his name again and again like a prayer, and only the pressure of his hook against her ankle quiets her.

"That’s quite forward of you, princess," Hook murmurs into her curls.

 _Fuck_. She can’t remember her own name, let alone any stupid roleplaying game she was dumb enough to suggest in the first place, and _Jesus wept_  he wasn’t going to do anything until she apologized, was he?  _Fuck._  ”M-my apologies…  _captain_ …”

Shit, she’s never going to hear the end of it, stumbling over her words like that, and the stupid, evil grin on his face before he resumes his awful,  _wonderful_  torture on her seals it.

And just as she’s about to come, that bubble of heat and light inside her ready to burst, he stops.

She’s going to throw him overboard and leave him for the sharks. Or whatever they had in Canada.

Instead, she finds herself being swept up into his arms and carried down the stairs and into the captain’s quarters. It’s warmer here, and she almost sighs in relief before letting out a little yelp at being unceremoniously dropped onto the bed. “It’s no feather bed, your highness, but it’ll do for now.”

"Are you stealing me a feather bed then, captain?" Emma asks.

His eyes darken, and another thrill shoots through her. “That depends, milady, entirely upon how long you’ll remain on board.”

Killian’s just tossed a football into a basketball game, and it appears he realizes there’s a slight panic bubbling up inside of her because Hook is back as his clothing is discarded, his easy swagger returning as his head tilted this way and that with each piece removed. “Besides,” he says, carefully removing her clothing as well, “I can’t have my crew mutiny over my quarters having finer bedding than theirs. You understand the need to keep those in your care happy, princess.”

The mattress is definitely hard, a time before box springs were invented, but then he’s climbing on top of her and she doesn’t care so much. “Of course,” she murmurs as he lowers himself, his weight settling on her slowly—and don’t think she hasn’t added “watch Killian do pushups” to her list of things to do.

Killian’s lips capture hers sweetly, lulling her into security from her panic. She pushes back, signaling that she was okay to go, and Hook is back, his mouth rough and his stubble scraping her cheeks and neck and chest raw. He thrusts inside her in the next minute, and she clings to him as his hips snap into hers with precision.

His cock hits her sweet spot, making her whimper against him. It’s his turn to pray to her, her name spilling from his lips between encouragements and curses—“Fall for me, darling” and “Gods, you’re warm” and “Seven hells, I can’t last much longer, you’re too much for me”.

And she does fall, crying his name to the ceiling, waves of warmth washing over her. All the candles in his quarters flame to life as he rides her out, pulling away from her to spill his seed on her stomach—and she’s really going to have to find a non-embarrassing way to ask Regina how to control her magic during sex, because this is getting out of hand.

He doesn’t notice for a moment, bracing himself on his forearms as he catches his breath, a grin playing on the edges of his lips as he comes down from his high. Killian notices finally when she looks away to glare at the lantern on the desk. “Interesting outcome today,” he comments.

Emma grunts in annoyance, and he kisses her cheek. Killian gets up and grabs a cleaning rag to mop her up. She wriggles under his blankets while he cleans himself, and hardly moves over when he comes to join her—it’s a small bed, and she won’t admit aloud that she likes to cuddle, but he knows her and they tangle their limbs together.

Killian presses gentle kisses to her forehead as her heart finally stops racing. “Was that satisfactory, captain?” she asks slyly after a while.

He chuckles. “It’ll do for now, love.”

Emma snorts. “‘It’ll do’, my ass.”

He tilts her chin up to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “Such language, your highness. Have you a suggestion for improvement, then?”

She smirks, and pushes him onto his back. Killian grins as she straddles him. “Practice,” she says, and slides him into her again.


	11. Itchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted "they leave the celebrations of no new villains party early to have some fun".

There was a reason Emma didn’t care to use her magic.

Barely six hours since her last victory—another notch in her already full belt, the villain subdued and shut away in the magical cage Regina had crafted—and the magic still burned through Emma’s veins.

She _itched_  with need. Something,  _anything_  to settle the sparks flowing through her, the pool of heat spreading between her legs, the ache in her chest. But the dark beers she drank and the stories she laughed at were just like putting Band-aids on an amputation—a nice thought, but if she didn’t get a real fix soon she’d be in trouble. 

She already knew the perfect solution—the problem was getting herself and the pirate out of the celebration without anyone noticing. The other problem was that being the Savior meant her sudden absences were often noted at her own parties.

He knew it too. He knew there was a reason she kept her distance. The eyes he made at her from over his beer stein did nothing to still the magic under her skin: the way his gaze lingered on the crook of her neck and the tip of his tongue traced his lower lip, the way he grinned—tongue stuck between his teeth—when she glared at him to knock it off, or the way his eyes traveled down her body while he idly traced circles on the rim of his glass.

Emma considered sending a message with her fingers too, but her brother was here and she didn’t need him mimicking her.

So she fidgeted and squirmed her way through an hour of congratulations and play-by-plays of the last fight—she’d lived through it, did she really need to rehash it? She pretended not to notice that every time she glanced back at him the desperate need for relief grew, that she’d squeeze her legs together a little tighter in a pale imitation of what she craved. And what of it if she brushed her hand down her chest a few times, claiming she was brushing off crumbs but really she was trying to make the itching ache in her breasts go away? Each glance back proved he needed this too, his watchful stare getting darker each time.

At last she could take it no more, and made her way to the end of the bar where Killian sat. She placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them gently, reveling in the little moan that escaped him as she pressed herself against his back. She bent close enough that her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “We need to get out of here.”

His laugh, dark and rich, warmed her further. “Thought you’d never ask, love.”

Ruby winked at them as they left out the back.

* * *

Emma’s lips were on his the second the front door closed behind them. They stumbled around each other as boots and coats were shed, desperate for contact. She stumbled back and he caught her before she bruised herself on the stairs. His lips brushed against hers as he balanced himself over her. “I’ll fuck you on the stairs, is that what you need?” He rasped

She whimpered as he roughly kissed her jawline, down her neck, his stubble roughing her smooth skin. “Carpet burn,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He chuckled, and straightened enough for her to get up and hurry up the stairs.

In the bedroom, she almost ripped her shirt off. Killian caught her by the wrist, spinning her into him and kissing her again. Her fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons. He couldn't even raise his hand to help her before she pulled him back and they toppled onto the bed—she wheezed a bit as he landed on top of her, but when he tried to pull away and apologize, Emma rolled them over.

She unbuttoned her jeans, shoving them down her legs and kicking them away, and freed him from his jeans. He can tell from her actions how much she needs this, how frantic the magic has made her. She sank onto him with a moan, her nails digging into his chest.

By the gods, she's wondrous, warm and welcoming. She rocked against him, biting her lip as he hit deep. He reached up and caressed her breast over her bra, cupping the side and rubbing small circles around her nipple. "You're beautiful," he told her tightly as she rolled her hips into his.

Emma whined, and Killian chuckled. "Alright, love, pillow talk later."

His hand and hook rested on her hips, pulling her further onto him. Emma let her head fall back with a happy sigh as he focused on thrusting his cock into her harder. He could tell from the erratic breathing and bouncing that she's close to coming, nearing that peak--

His thumb brushed over her clit and that's all it took for her to sink her nails into his chest, gasping and snapping her hips against his. He groaned with the feel of her coming around him, squeezing him and tempting him to follow. As her pleasure faded, she folded into herself, huddling against his chest as he chuckled--still hard inside her--and she caught her breath.

Another moment passed, and he could tell from the heat of her skin that this wasn't close to being over. "Killian," she warned.

"Aye, Swan, just for you," he told her, anything for her and he held her tight against him as he shifted them.

Emma wrapped her legs around his waist as he reached under her and unhooked her bra. His mouth found her breasts with lazy licks and gentle sucking, the pace of his thrusts into her matching. She carded her fingers through his hair, tugging harder with each pass. "Emma, love," he murmured against her skin, "if you keep doing that I won't have any hair left."

"Maybe if someone wasn't driving me insane I wouldn't have to pull his hair out," she replied, earning her another laugh.

But it worked, his pace increasing as she wrapped herself around him fully. The little whimpers and puffs of air in his ear fueled him further, her little whispered encouragements--"Faster,  _please_ " and " _Fuck_ , you feel so good"--causing him to angle her to hit the spot that made her toes curl.

When she unraveled around him again, her legs twitching, her heels digging into his arse, he  _almost_  followed... but tonight was about her, quelling the impatient itch of her magical fires. Killian was more than happy to be at her beck and call when the magic caused her so much want.

She huffed into his ear, trying to catch her breath as he propped himself up on his elbows, still buried in her warmth to the hilt. He grinned. "Better?"

She hesitated, her eyes closed. She shifted slightly under him before she gave an exaggerated false sob. "No."

He kissed her. Her kiss, fueled with desire, only made him want her more. "Is it such a trial to be loved by me?"

Emma opened her eyes, and smiled wryly. "No. I just... don't like being at the mercy of my hormones like this."

Killian snapped his hips against hers and she sucked in a breath. He grinned again; he'd never tire of the look of her after she came, her hair mussed and skin tinged pink. "Love, you may not like it, but rest assured that your discomfort is a cross I am willing to bear."

She shoved at him, and he thrust into her hard again in retaliation. Emma laughed. "Just shut up and fuck me, Jones."

 _That_  he could do, and in the end she came three more times before her magic finally settled.


	12. Valentine's Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original ask got deleted but the general gist of this one was Emma had a long and stressful day at work and then there was bath sex.
> 
> Set sometime in the future, canon-verse.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, ya filthy animals.

So maybe Valentine's Day  _wasn't_  the worst.

 _There really are some advantages_ , she thought, biting her lip to keep in the moan trying to escape,  _to dating uncompromising, stubborn bastards._

As if he sensed her thoughts, or perhaps because he knew she kept her sighs inside, the frequency of sloppy nips and kisses on either side of her neck, shoulders, ears increased. She arched, her mouth opening wordlessly as her head fell back on his shoulder. The water sloshed against the high sides of the tub; the cooling water splashed onto her chest, her nipples painfully tight from the combined sensations. He slid another finger inside of her and--

Emma squeaked.

Killian laughed against her skin. Gooseflesh rippled down her arms. "I win," he murmured, his scruff scraping deliciously against her cheek as he nipped her jaw.

"No, you don't--ahh," Emma sighed as his thumb brushed against her clit. Now he was just playing dirty. "Nothing about squeaking was mentioned, just--nngh--"

.

_Valentine's Day or not, a sheriff's duty always came first. And Valentine's Day or not, everyone and their mother had complains that needed seeing to. (Except Emma's mother, but she suspected that Mary Margaret had enough going on--what with two young children and running a small town--without finding a complaint that she wasn't able to handle herself)_

_One very vexing ten-hour shift later, Emma found herself being lured from the front door to a waiting bath upstairs. Killian slowly removed her clothes, his mouth hardly leaving hers, his hand grasping and kneading and massaging wherever it could. She was breathless against him, the anxious tension in her muscles slowly being replaced with warm and fizzy tension. "My work's cut out for me, Swan," he murmured against the hollow of her throat._

_"Howso?" she asked hazily._

_"Normally you're quite... vocal."_

_She hummed a laugh. "Bet you can't make me."_

_He bit her collarbone a bit harder than necessary. "I'll win that bet, darling."_

.

"Shit," Emma muttered.

"What do I win, Swan?" Killian asked, pausing his oral ministrations, resting his chin on her shoulder. The innocent look he gave her contrasted with the way his fingers curled inside her, his thumb sliding in smooth circles, warm waves of pleasure half-distracting her from his question.

Her breathing unsteady, she glared at him sidelong. He only batted his eyelashes at her. Emma grunted in annoyance, and turned around, the sounds of sloshing water filling the room. Ever the gentleman, Killian's hand never left its place inside her until she moved to replace it with his cock. He grinned up at her as she loomed over him, bracing herself on his shoulders as she slowly sank onto him. "Ah," Killian quipped when she sighed happily, "my favorite prize."

Emma rocked against him, moaning deep in her throat, relishing the feeling of being so full.

.

_It used to scare her--feeling whole with one person, feeling like she fit so **easily** with one person. It shouldn't have been so easy, so  **natural** , but it  **was**. Time and patience helped her, until she wasn't just  **letting** him into her bed, she was  **instigating**  it. Almost every flat surface of their house had been christened, and most of it at her insistence._

_Killian may have been the handsy one in public--his hand at her back, brushing her hair away, on her arm, clasping her hand in his, always lingering in her personal space--but when they were alone, Emma returned the favor tenfold._

.

Now, he sucked greedily on her breasts as she bounced on his cock, his hand palming her ass, steadying her. The bathroom echoed water splashes, moans, sighs, murmured encouragements, until Emma squeezed her eyes tight, crying out as her orgasm rocked through her. Killian shifted her a few more times, his breathing erratic, before his breaths came heavily and he sucked almost painfully hard on her breasts, and then he finally quieted.

He released her nipple with a slight popping noise and Emma winced. "Hickey," she said, sliding off him.

Killian grinned sheepishly. "Apologies, love."

She shrugged, and slipped down in the water, nestling up to him. "It happens."

He tilted her chin up and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he told her softly when they parted, their foreheads resting together.

.

_That used to scare her too, but he'd proved again and again that he meant every letter, every syllable, every possible meaning of the words 'I' and 'Love' and 'You'._

_And she meant it too._

.

"I love you too," she said, and she butted her head against his gently, unable to help the grin that grew across her lips.


	13. Channel Chasers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: "killian stumbles upon a porn channel and emma catches him jerking off, then rides him to oblivion multiple times."

The moving picture box was becoming a favored pastime of his. (“It’s a _television_ , Killian,” Emma said in his mind, ever patient with his pace of adapting to her world.) Every manner of story could be told to anyone with access to one -- though he had yet to discover why there seemed to be a such a preference for tales of doctors or police. He particularly enjoyed watching the sporting events with David and Henry. On days like that one, when Emma’s at work and the lad with the queen, Killian could often be found  _channel surfing_  with the  _clicker_ on the couch.

That day’s adventure with the  _television_  was to see just how high the numbers on the box went before resetting. Henry said there were hundreds, but Killian also knew the lad liked his little jokes. But as Killian’s thumb grew more and more tired as he sailed into the five, six, seven hundreds, he thought maybe Henry was onto something. And when he had to double back to make sure that  _yes_ , he was actually able to watch a program consisting of nothing but two people in the throes of passion, Killian wondered if Henry knew about this channel too.

It wasn’t proper, he told himself as his thumb didn’t push the next channel button. Surely this must be some kind of mistake, that someone had bewitched the television to intrude on someone’s private affairs. The gods knew he wasn’t shy about his body and who saw it, but was there actually a _demand_  for people to fuck publicly for the amusement of others in this land?

From the way his body responded, he could only assume yes. The  _camera angles_ were focused in all the right places, areas where his own gaze might go were he engaged with a woman -- with  _Emma_.

And quite suddenly, he realized the point of it all: it wasn’t to watch two other people rut like dogs in the street. It was to imagine yourself and your own lover.

_Though_ , he thought with increased interest in the scene change on the television,  _Emma might object to bringing another lass into our bed_.

Still, the thought of Emma moving like the women on the screen -- _reacting_ like that -- had him freeing his hardening erection from his trousers. He licked a long stripe up his palm, taking his cock in hand. It’s been some time since he felt the need to relieve himself in this manner but he fell back into the rhythm easily, taking the fantasy on the screen and substituting it with his own.

It’s Emma’s hand on him, her touch firm and less rough than his own as she stroked his cock. Emma’s mouth wrapped around the head while her hand worked the shaft. Emma writhing underneath him like that as she begged him to fuck her, pleaded with him to make her come. Emma’s head thrown back in ecstasy as her thighs squeezed around his head as he tasted her sweetness, his broken name flying from her lips as she came.

Killian’s breathing became more ragged as he slowed his pumping, savoring the pleasurable feeling rather than chasing his release. Sometimes she took it slow when she rode him, her hair swaying in a gentle cascade around her face. He moaned a little when he imagined the smile she wore in those moments -- the smile just for him, the one so full of love and hope that he thought his heart might burst from knowing it was just for him. “Emma...” Her name slipped from his lips just as the door to their apartment opened and closed.

Caught in a lusty daze, Killian froze, unsure how to proceed. He tried to fumble for the remote and shove his erection back into his trousers all at once and failed brilliantly at both. Then Emma herself was in the doorway and her eyebrows shot up when she saw what was going on. She opened her mouth soundlessly, her cheeks painted pink, and Killian felt a growing shame at being caught at such an act by her. “Emma, I --”

She blinked one more time, then a slow smirk spread over her face. “If I knew you were getting impatient, I would have come home a little earlier,” she said, walking over to the television and turning it off. “We don’t need that anymore, do we?” she practically purred as she slid into his lap, her arms going around his neck.

“No,” he rasped, his throat working to find other words to say, but  _gods_  she looked at him now like she wanted to devour him and he couldn’t say he’d mind it in the least.

“Good,” she whispered and kissed him.

Her mouth was hot and wanting and her tongue swept into his mouth as her hands worked to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt. He tried to remove her sweater but she moved his hand away. When she pulled away, her smile was dangerous. He swallowed hard as she undid the buttons on her trousers, getting up briefly to removing them and coming to settle around his legs again. She kissed him again and moved his hand to her panties; her sex hovered just above his and he understood what she wanted him to do. His fingers slid beneath the fabric and find her folds warm and wet for him already. “Gods, love, were you like this all day?” he whispered against her lips.

“Mm,” was all she could manage to say when he stroked her nub with his thumb, his fingers dragging long, lazy lines down to her entrance.

“Or is this from finding me with my cock in hand?” he asked before sucking on her lip and making her gasp. “Does that turn you on, Emma? Does it make you wet and wanton, knowing you make me want you all the time? That I can’t even wait for you to come home because I’m going mad with need for you?”

She gasped as he pulled her panties to the side. She sank onto his cock with a sigh, that smile returning and making his heart flutter. “I didn’t hear an answer, Swan,” Killian growled, thrusting up into her wet warmth.

“Yes, _fuck_ ,” she cried as he rolled his hips into hers again.

His hand went to her hair, his fingers tangling in it near the base of her neck. She loved it when he did this, and the flush across her cheeks now confirmed it. “Darling, I’m not going to last long,” he rasped as she took over, riding him harder as she chased her own release.

She smirked at him and he pulled on her hair a bit harder than usual. She cried out, her face alight with pleasure, and the sinful look returned tenfold when she looked back at him. “I’ve heard the captain’s recovery time is something to be  _experienced_ ,” she whispered, and it sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. “Funny thing is, I’ve never gotten to.”

He gave her a dangerous look of her own. “Is that so?”

One of her hands slipped from behind his neck, fingers trailing across his skin and down the length of the chain to his pirate’s luck. She gripped his luck tight and pulled, bringing him up to meet her. “A pirate always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?” Emma whispered, their foreheads touching.

“I always knew there was a little bit of pirate in you,” Killian told her again and she laughed.

It didn’t take him long to find release, not with her tight grip on his necklace leaving biting marks in his skin or the way her eyes fluttered closed as he hit the spot inside her that made her toes curl. When he came, he gasped her name against her lips, the roll of his hips into hers out of sync from their earlier rhythm. She smiled when he stilled and used the opportunity to remove her sweater and bra.

_This is more like it_ , Killian thought as she maneuvered him to lay down against the couch pillows. She hardly paused in her thrusts, her breasts bouncing with the effort. They brushed against his chest as she leaned down and kissed him deeply, her tongue brushing against his again. He sucked on her lip in that way that made her sigh against him as his hand came up to brush against one of her nipples. He felt his next release building, but knew it would take some time and he intended to enjoy every moment.

“Tell me where you want me to take you,” Killian demanded, watching her eyes flutter closed again. She loved this too, when he made demands of her, making her think when she couldn’t think straight otherwise. “Next time, when you’re wet and want me so badly you can’t remember your own name. Tell me where you want me to take you and fuck you.”

She gasped as he bent forward and his lips closed around one nipple, tongue swirling around as he sucked it to a peak. “The  _Jolly_ ,” she moaned. “Against the mast. On your desk, _fuck_ , in the galley for all I care.”

“The pirate’s wench wants to be fucked properly on the pirate’s ship, does she?” he snarled.

He snapped his hips up against hers and she cried out, “ _God_ , yes!”

“Where else?” Killian ordered. “Tell me where else.”

He moved to her other breast, enjoying the way her face twisted in pleasure while she tried to answer him. “T-the sheriff’s station, in the cells.”

“With handcuffs?”

“On  _you_ ,” she spat and whined as he bit down on her nipple in response.

He could feel his next orgasm building and decided to give up further questioning in favor of bringing her to her peak first. His hand slipped between them, his thumb finding her nub. Emma’s breathing grew more unsteady as she rode him harder, whimpering pleas to him, “I’m close, Killian,  _please_ , almost there --”

“Come for me, Emma, let go,” he urged, his own voice pitching high as he felt his release take hold. “I’ve got you, love.”

He held out for another moment before his orgasm hit, waves of pleasure rolling through him from top to toe. She followed him a moment later, her sex squeezing his cock and dragging his pleasure out longer.

Emma rested her forehead against his chest when she stilled, breathing hard. “You good?” she asked, the sound muffled.

Killian chuckled, pulling her up to meet him. He kissed her languidly, putting into the action what words could not: he could never be better and it’s all because of her. Her fingers found his necklace again just before they broke, playing with the sword. She grinned at him and he returned it. “I hope that was better than any porn,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion as she reluctantly got off of him, then remembered the television. “The people... it’s called porn, then, is it?” he asked.

“Yeah. I should probably put some kind of password on those channels so Henry doesn’t see them,” she said. “It’s not really something someone his age should be watching.”

He nodded in understanding -- a lock for technology -- and sat up with a slight grimace. He definitely needed a shower and change of clothes. “Well, love, I can’t say it’s all bad. In fact, I found myself quite  _inspired_.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that.”

He grinned. “So you’re saying you don’t want to know what else I have in mind.”

Emma smiled indulgently. “Maybe.”

Killian leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then whispered in her ear, “Good, because I’m nowhere near finished with you tonight.”


	14. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in-spirational asked for "cs smut - involving a chair and mirror ;) very smutty please!!"

_This is why we waited_ , Emma thought with breathless glee. She thought she’d be spent by now with two orgasms under her belt, but Killian was relentless and  _fuck_ she loved every second of it.

Only this time, just as her belly clenched with desire, Killian started to slow. Emma whined, fisting her hands in the blankets on his bunk. “Please,” she begged. God,  _why_  was he slowing down? “Please, Killian, I’m so close, make me come. _Please_.”

He chuckled darkly, lips brushing against the dip in her back. He trailed kisses up her spine as his thumb kneaded small circles into her hip. “All in good time.”

Then he stopped completely and Emma wanted to scream. She buried her face deep into the pillow, whining louder – he only chuckled again. _Bastard._ She ached for release, her walls fluttering around him as he shifted – just enough movement to tease, not enough to give her what she craved.

He pulled her onto her side, laying them both down and curling himself around her from behind. His cock still fully sheathed inside her, he pressed more kisses along her shoulder and neck, humming as he did so. Emma shifted a little, hoping the movement would inspire him to continue the almost brutal pace he’d set earlier. “What a needy lass you are,” Killian murmured in her ear. “Patience, my love.”

“I wouldn’t be this needy if you’d just _fuck_  me,” Emma ground out, her voice catching as his hand grazed her nipple. He hummed, thrusting up against her once. Emma gasped as electricity flooded her veins. “Again.”

He paid her no mind, resuming his worship on her shoulder. She ground her teeth together in frustration. She’d threaten to withhold sex from him for this if she wasn’t already sure they’d never be able to go another day without having each other. Emma slumped back into his embrace. She did enjoy this, really: laying here in his arms, as close together as they could possibly be. She loved the way he treated her so gently, almost reverently.

She just really,  _really_  wanted to come again.

Killian sucked lightly on her neck, his teeth grazing across her skin ever so slightly. Emma sighed in content, tilting her head more to give him better access. “Now, love, how would you like me to make you come? Mouth or cock?” he murmured against her skin.

“Cock,” she breathed as he gently thrust up into her again. “Need to feel you.”

“Good. We’re going to sit in that chair,” he said, brushing his nose against her cheek to indicate she look at his desk. “And then we’re going to face that mirror.” There’s a full-length mirror in the corner, positioned just right to be visible from the desk. Emma didn’t remember seeing it before and wondered when he’d bought it. “And then,” Killian continued, punctuating by nibbling on her earlobe, “you’re going to watch me fuck you.”

He chuckled when she clenched around his cock, his words sending desire rocketing through her again. Emma bit back a whimper when he pulled out of her. He helped her up, moved the chair into place, and sat down. Emma reached back, gripping his cock lightly as she moved to sit on his lap. She guided the tip back into her aching sex and sighed with relief when she took him in fully. “Watch,” Killian ordered.

Emma lifted her gaze to the mirror, her breathing growing more erratic as he began to thrust up into her. And wasn’t that a sight to see, his cock disappearing into her. “Touch yourself,” he said, his own voice growing more ragged. Emma saw the wildness in his eyes as he watched her hands smooth up her body to cup her bouncing breasts.

He groaned deep in his throat as she played with her nipples. His bad arm wrapped around her waist, helping lift and push her onto his cock while his hand slipped between her legs. Emma watched his fingers circle and slide against her clit, warmth and starlight filling her body. Her eyes closed as she threw her head back at the feeling. “Eyes  _open_ , Swan,” Killian ordered harshly, his voice breaking. “Watch me fuck you. See the way you take all of me in. Fuck, Emma, you’re  _so_  good.” She tried to keep her eyes open as much as she could as he licked a long line up the side of her neck. He leaned his forehead against her, just under her ear, lips brushing the back of her neck. “You feel  _so_  good, sweetheart, so wet and tight.”

He whispered more encouragements and endearments, dirty secrets and desires for her. Keeping her eyes open remained a challenge as she felt her orgasm building. “Almost there, almost,” she whispered desperately.

“Fall, darling, I’ve got you.”

His hips snapped up and his cock hit the right place inside of her. Emma screamed her release as the light of a thousand suns exploded under her skin. Her sex rippled around him and triggered his release. Killian groaned into her shoulder as her convulsions faded, leaving her limp in his arms. He kissed her shoulder softly. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he told her softly.

She turned her head and captured his lips with her own. She wanted to say something funny, some off-hand comment about making her wait to feel this used and loved, but she’s suffering from sex-brain. She could barely stand to clean up and move back to the bed.

His bunk was small but that didn’t matter. She simply wrapped him around her and buried her face in his chest hair. She was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the Jolly in the water, the scent of Killian, and feeling of his fingers gently combing through her hair and the gentle caress of his lips on her head.


	15. Dark Horse Side Story 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "cs- killian loves emma's skirts and heels, so after she comes back from work he fucks her against several nearby surfaces. (smut)"
> 
> I set this during chapter 13 of "Dark Horse", describing Emma's outfit at one point to match this prompt. It was a non-smutty chapter that hinted at it, so this fills in the blank.

“I said leave the shoes  _on_ , Swan,” Killian growls in her ear, the warm puff of air sending shivers down her spine.

Emma stops trying to kick off her Steve Maddens, surrendering to the desperate, hungry kiss. He pins her against the door, his hands sliding down her hips and hooking under her thighs. She clings to him, squeaking in surprise when he lifts her legs up to wrap around his waist. He pulls away from her mouth roughly, lips and teeth on her ears, her neck, her collarbones. “I dreamed of you, you vixen,” he whispers against her skin before drawing a line up the column of her throat with his tongue. “Miles away from me and  _still_ I desired you. Then you arrive at the track in these cursed  _shoes_  and this _skirt_. All day I’ve wanted you, thought about how I’d take you if given the chance.”

“Sorry,” Emma breathes, wanting more –  _needing_ more. God, how could he set her off so fast? They’d only slept together once, how the  _hell_  did he know how to get her this hot under the collar already?

He rolls his hips into hers more firmly and she bites back a moan. “I’m not,” Killian tells her before covering her mouth with his again. 

His lips moved hungrily over hers, his body pressing hard against hers to keep her up on the wall. Emma shamelessly grinds her center against the thick length of his arousal, desperate for release despite the few layers of clothing between them. His hands slide up her thighs as his lips move down her neck, gripping her skirt and pulling it up above her hips. She gets the picture quickly, reaching between them to fumble with his belt and fly. “Back pocket,” he growls against the hollow of her throat.

She slides her hand down his ass, squeezing it hard and making him thrust against her hard before doing as he says, drawing out a condom. “Someone’s a Boy Scout,” she teases, holding it up between two fingers.

“Always prepared,” he agrees, surging up and catching her lips with his again.

His kisses leave her dizzy with desire, fiery and demanding. Emma fumbles with the condom as his grip shifts on her; one hand cups her ass, holding her up, while the other shoves her damp underwear to the side. She wants to cry with relief when his fingers slip inside her, his thumb swiping against her clit mercilessly. “Killian,” she whimpers. “Killian, let me get the --”

“You’re going to come all over my fingers,” he whispers fiercely and the words go straight to her clit, making her thrust against his hand with need. “You’re going to come, and then I’m going to take you and fuck you all over the damn house.”

 _Jesus_ , and she thought fucking against the door was risky enough. She can hardly string two thoughts together with the way his fingers are working her, but she manages to open her eyes and meet his squarely. “Prove it,” she challenges breathlessly.

Killian’s grin is sinful. “There’s my Swan.”

He slips a third finger inside of her, stretching her further as his thumb presses into her clit. Emma’s gasping when she comes, feeling like her veins are filled with starlight as she squeezes his fingers. All the while, he licks at the sensitive spot under her ear.

He gives her a moment to catch her breath before letting her legs slide unsteadily to the floor. She grins, giggling at her clumsiness, and finally rolls the condom over his thick cock.

In a flash, he has her up on the counter, practically ripping her panties off of her and dropping his pants to the floor. She wraps her legs around him eagerly as he slides home. “Dig those heels in, Swan,” Killian says, his voice strained. She can feel him shaking a she waits for her to adjust to him. “Don’t be afraid to really, y’know, get into it.”

She laughs, head thrown back, and catches the odd look on his face. “What?” Emma asks, a few giggles slipping out.

“You’re a beautiful lass,” is all he says before he starts to move.

His pace definitely doesn’t match his tender words and she appreciates it, unsure of how she’d handle so much tenderness at once. Instead she clings to him as he drives his cock into her slippery heat. He hisses when she does dig the heels of her Steve Maddens into his ass, but he repays her when he yanks down her shirt and bra and relentlessly sucks at her nipples, switching just often enough to keep her from getting too sore.

She comes again with a shout, but he’s not finished with her yet. Killian steps out of the pants pooled around his ankles and lifts her, still sheathed inside her rippling walls, carrying her into the living room. Emma’s vaguely aware of the cats fleeing as he topples them onto the couch, her landing on him. “Ride me, Swan,” he tells her. “Let me see you come over me.”

She raises an incredulous eyebrow but he just grins at her in that stupid, cocky way she loves.  _Challenge accepted, buster_ , she thinks, deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt and spreading her hands across his bare chest as she starts to rock her hips into his. Dark hair covers his delicious muscles, and there’s a trail of it disappearing to where they’re joined together. She wants to run her tongue along the V in his hips, watch him gasp and twitch before taking his cock in her mouth, but that’ll have to wait for later.

For now, she feels another orgasm already building --  _seriously, how does he do it?_  -- and needs to fuck him until they’re both seeing stars.

She lifts up and _slams_  her hips into his, enjoying the way his eyes widen in pleasure, his breath catching in his throat. He must see something on her face because he smirks and lifts his hips to meet her thrusts. Emma lets her head fall back in ecstasy, the thick drag of him against her walls making her toes curl.

One of his hands comes up to cup her breast, his calloused thumb circling her nipple. She hisses, and his other hand moves to where they’re joined, his fingers surrounding her clit and sending heat through her. “You keep that up and I’m not gonna last much longer,” she says through gritted teeth.

“That’s the point, love.”

“Not when I want you to come with me.”

He quirks an eyebrow up, but nods. “As the lady wishes.”

Emma leans forward and traces his collarbones with her tongue, the pace of their thrusts increasing as they chase their release together. “Come on, Killian,” she whispers fiercely, biting his neck.

He grunts. “So tight...  _fuck_ ,” he hisses, fingers slipping against her clit.

Emma’s close, seconds away from falling over that edge again, and kisses him deeply. His breathing quickens, and then his thrusts are erratic and she knows she’s got him. His orgasm triggers hers as he hits that spot deep inside her and she muffles her scream against his shoulder.

She doesn’t know how long they lay like that, still tangled in each other, breathing returning to normal. It’s nice, she decides. She could get used to it.

Then her stomach growls and Killian chuckles under her. “I did promise you dinner, didn’t I?” he asks, kissing her cheek.

She catches his lips with hers again before they get up. She definitely could get used to this.


	16. First Time (canon, 4B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: "Please please please write first time smut after Emma return from NY. Hot, needy and on the Jolly Roger. I will love you forever."

 

She needs him.

The weight of the last week is unbearable - she needs to  _stop thinking,_  just allow herself to  _feel_.

He makes her feel  _everything_.

(He wanted to wait, make them  _mean_  something, but she couldn't wait any longer.)

He has her against the wall in his cabin; her arm is pinned above her head with his hook, the tip embedded deeply in the wood to hold her there. His hand massages one of her breasts, his rough calluses and the lace of her bra making her nipples almost painfully tight. She gasps into his mouth, his tongue plunging deeper, taking her and tasting her and Emma could cry from how much she wants him. She squeezes her legs together, trying to create the friction she craves, kissing him desperately.

He feels her move, his hand sliding down her belly to slip under her panties. Her hips jerk forward when his fingers brush her folds,  _needing_  to take him in -  _any_ part of him at this point. He whispers words of praise against her lips when he finally parts her folds, his thumb circling her clit. " _Gods, you're dripping." "So wet, so warm." "Amazing, Swan, simply beautiful."_

His words combine with the pressure he's building between her legs, leaving Emma crying out when he finally slips his fingers inside her. She moves her hips with him - " _There's a good girl, fuck my fingers."_  - while he bows his head over her breasts, sucking at her nipples through the lace. She comes with a shuddering cry, " _Killian!_ ", her orgasm leaving her legs weak, making her toes curl against the cold wood floorboards - and suddenly she's free, being moved to the bed and laid across the colorful blankets.

She watches him as he strips out of his coat, vest and shirt, pausing to remove the hook - that would be a conversation for another day, how much she wanted that fucking hook too - then shedding his pants. She rakes in the sight of his deliciously bare body, the dark patch of hair on his chest, his toned and scarred muscles, the erection standing proudly and even bigger than she'd imagined. She licks her lips, wanting to taste it, but he's chuckling and shaking his head. "Another time, love. I'll fuck that mouth of yours soon enough."

 _Jesus_  that shouldn't turn her on like this, but he's climbing on top of her and kissing her again like she's the air he needs to breathe and all she wants is him  _inside of her_.  _Now_. Impatient, Emma reaches between them, grabbing his cock and hitching a leg over his hip. She pulls him down against her with her leg, dragging the tip of his cock against her wetness before positioning him at her entrance. "Last chance to back ou- " Killian cuts himself off with a hiss when she shifts her hips up and pulls him down further with her leg, burying him inside of her to the hilt.

"Fuck me, Killian." She's not pleading, but she's not ashamed of the need in her voice.  _God_ , he's fantastic, thick and pulling her apart at the seams and she's full, full,  _full_ -

He starts to move and Emma can feel her skin tingling. She gasps with every thrust, overwhelmed from the sensation of his cock dragging against her walls, from the words he's whispering in her ear as he holds her close - " _I missed you." "You feel so bloody amazing." "I despaired with worry for you."_

She brings her other leg up to wrap around his waist, taking him deeper as their pace increases, hips bumping together as they fall easily into this dance that's older than time. She  _needs_  him, needs every part of him, and the tingling under her skin leaves her breathless from the intensity until she feels Killian laughing against her neck. Emma opens her eyes and sees the brass lanterns swinging from the rafters are lit - she flushes when she remembers they hadn't been before. "Sorry," she gasps as he hits that sweet spot inside her.

"I'm a fan of every part of you, remember?" Killian grunts, nibbling on her earlobe.

He kisses her lips hungrily and she doesn't care that magic and sex don't mix, she can feel her next orgasm building and she needs to come around him, feel her walls squeeze him, coax him to his own release. She's breathless as his hips piston into hers, chasing both of their orgasms.

She feels like she's standing on a cliff at the ends of the earth, wanting nothing more than to fall over that end with him, leaving everyone else behind.

If this is what the darkness feels like, she'll grab it with both hands and hold tight.

His cock hits deep inside her and Emma sees stars, feels galaxies being born and dying under her skin as her legs shake around him, her sex squeezing his cock, and she doesn't know if it's her magic or her orgasm or both - it's  _bliss_  and it's  _Killian_  and for the first time in  _days_ she feels  _unbroken_.

Killian's moaning into her neck as she drifts down from her high. She hadn't even noticed his orgasm. "I - I felt -" he says, his voice filled with awe. "Emma, I  _felt_ that."

Emma's laugh reveals how spent she is. "Well, I kinda  _hope_  so," she teases, kissing him softly.

"You misunderstand, love," he says softly when they part, breathing hard as he reached up and thumbed the little cleft in her chin he loves so much. "I felt  _everything_. Mine, yours... your magic - it did something, darling." She blushes again but he's kissing her in a way that says she has no reason to voice the apology that's on the tip of her tongue. He rests his forehead on hers when they part. "You're amazing, Emma Swan."

His words are laced with the same meaning he's been dancing around for weeks now - " _Don't you know, Emma? It's you." "Aye, and I, you."_  - and it's as scary as ever, but she knows what he means. She can't voice it, not like he can, but she's trying.

"So are you," she whispers, and catches his lips again, tangling her fingers in his hair.


	17. Roleplay (Canon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> xhookswenchx/ReluctantPrincess asked for roleplay that wasn't pirate/princess. SIGH SHE MAKES MY LIFE SO DIFFICULT (but she writes excellent fic, so that more than makes up for it ;) )
> 
> Some slight spoilers for the end of s4, some twists on how we're all thinking things are going to go, and more than enough smut to go around.

She downs her drink with ease, the tequila richer and smoother than anything she’s had before. It helps to settle the restlessness in her heart, the one that’s been there for years now, bound and contained but existing all the same. The weight of the rings on her finger is still new, unfamiliar, and entirely the reason why she’s alone at this resort bar getting wasted on Mexico’s finest liquor.

Emma idly twists the band around her finger with her thumb, thinking about the man she’d left asleep upstairs. The itch is back, the one she’d been fighting since the moment she’d said “yes” to his proposal and all the way up to the “I do”s. The itch that said “run”, the one that said she’d never be enough, the one that said no one would ever want to get tied down to her forever.

Maybe it was cold feet. But it was a little late for that, now.

“What’s a beautiful woman such as yourself lingering around a seedy place like this by yourself?” 

The low English drawl sends a shiver down her spine. He’s bold, murmuring it in her ear instead of approaching from the side, and Emma’s three seconds from showing him that “armed and dangerous” doesn’t  _always_ mean she’s carrying. “Maybe she’s trying to drink alone,” she says, pouring herself another shot.

“Take it from an expert, love, drinking alone is never the best of ideas, no matter how tempting the notion may be,” the Englishman says, sliding onto the stool next to her and plucking the shot glass from her fingers. “Now, drinking with a  _partner_... that leads to all sorts of interesting developments.”

Emma smiles wryly as he, too, downs the shot with ease. “Thanks, but I’m already married. Honeymoon, actually.”

She flashes her rings, obnoxious and large as they are, and the man raises an intrigued eyebrow. It’s almost unfair how attractive he is, now that she gets a good look at him. Wind-ruffled hair and wild fringe (he’s got a cowlick and it’s almost adorable), eyebrows that seem to have minds of their own, eyes as blue as the Pacific Ocean on their left. The scruff on his chin doesn’t mark him as a lazy man like it does for others; coupled with the way he doesn’t seem to miss anything going on around them, it marks him as a busy man, one who doesn’t have time to shave every morning -- and knows it only makes him more ruggedly handsome. The scar on his cheek marks him as dangerous, the quirk of his lips say he’s sensual.

Emma can feel herself growing wetter by the moment.  _Shit_.

“Pity,” the man drawls, raising his left hand -- held oddly stiff until she realized it was a very well crafted prosthetic -- to the bartender for a drink of his own. “Though, a perceptive man might wonder where your husband is to leave his beautiful wife alone, where any determined man might try and have his way with her.”

Emma leans forward, batting her eyelashes a bit. She gestures with her hand, and watches as his eyes follow it down, down, down... She draws the long skirt of her sarong up to reveal the curving knife strapped to her leg. “I’m a dangerous woman,” she purrs. “My husband doesn’t have to worry about other men. Other men have to worry about  _me_.”

There’s a hum in her veins, one she’s practiced for years now to contain and ignore, one that urges her to to _take, claim, possess_.

She kind of doesn’t want to ignore that hum this time.

The Englishman merely sips at his drink, eyebrow raising in acknowledgement. “An interesting choice of weapon, darling,” he says.

“It has... sentimental value,” Emma says, pouring herself another shot, as her last one had been denied to her. “I keep it on me always.”

The Englishman hums, setting his tumbler down. Her eyes are drawn to the silvery glint from the rings on his fingers, light playing off of them as he twisted the glass around on the bar. “Dangerous indeed. I do so love a challenge, me.”

“I’m still married,” Emma tells him.

“And I don’t see that bloody ponce of a husband anywhere near here,” he challenges, a glint in his eye. “You’re a bit of an open book, love. You like what you see, you want a taste.”

The thrum in her veins is stronger and Emma takes a breath to settle it. Even here, she could lose control, lose... “What if I do?” she challenges back. “It wouldn’t bother you to take another man’s wife?”

“I’ve had many a man’s wife,” he drawls, and she doesn’t doubt that for a moment. “However, it wouldn’t bother  _you_  to sully your marriage so quickly?”

Emma sits back on her stool, watching him carefully. The thrum under her skin combines with the itch she’s felt for  _months_  and she  _knows_  it’s a dangerous combination, but the part of her that’s been shut out for so long, the dark part of her soul, screams for her to  _take_. “To tell you the truth,” she says slowly, keeping her voice low as she leans toward him again, “my husband is rather...  _lacking_ , if you catch my drift.”

There’s a flash in his eyes, a dangerous one, and God help her if that doesn’t send a pulse of arousal straight to her clit. “Oh yes?” he breathes, leaning in closer.

Emma hums in agreement, and they’re scant inches apart as her eyes flick down to his parted lips and  _Jesus_  that thing he’s doing with his tongue should be illegal. “I usually have to... take care of things myself. It gets awfully lonely,” she murmurs for his ears only. “Imagine, poor little me, my own fingers pinching my nipples, sliding between my legs and rubbing my clit, fucking myself on my own fingers.”

His voice is thick as he says, “I can imagine.”

She can feel her lips brushing against his when she whispers, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

He pulls back. Emma’s brow furrows in confusion until she sees him down his drink in one swift motion before holding his hand out to her. He raises his eyebrow again in a silent invitation; she doesn’t think about it, doesn’t let the voice in her head tell her it’s not a good idea, lets the darkness surge through her and scream victory for impulse decisions, for destruction and pure, selfish  _need_. She takes his hand and he leads her inside.

There’s one light on in the room and she can’t even take in any of her surroundings before he’s whirled her around and crushed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss. His hand is in her hair, pulling it just right and Emma moans into him. Her lips part, their tongues meeting -- he tastes like rum and tequila and if she wasn’t already buzzing she might get drunk off the taste of him alone.

She fumbles for the buttons on his shirt as he unzips the back of her dress. She steps back reluctantly, sliding the dress off and letting it pool around her feet. She can feel the way he takes her in, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin -- when she’d decided to go down for a drink, it had been quicker to just toss on her dress from earlier, leaving her bra and panties behind, than to fully dress again. “Love, I do believe you’re trying to kill me,” he murmurs.

“Hardly,” Emma retorts, her arms going around his neck. “I haven’t even had a chance to play with you yet.”

He growls, his eyes darkening again just before he claimed her lips once more. They tumble back onto the bed, his hand sliding up her side. “Tell me how he doesn’t please you,” he growls against her. “Tell me what you do to yourself.”

His kisses are rough against her neck, his scruff scraping her skin and making her squeeze her legs together to relieve some of the pressure building there. “He never sucks on my nipples. I can’t do that, I make do with my fingers,” she says.

She gasps as his mouth latches onto her breast, his tongue rough as he sucks hard. His fingers are calloused and coarse against her skin and Emma almost comes from this alone, the way he switches between breasts, rough or gentle at turns. “What else?” he breathes, and her nipples tighten almost painfully at the puff of air against them.

“H-He doesn’t... touch me,” she whimpers, already feeling his hand slide down her stomach to her core. She  _needed_  to feel his fingers, feel  _anything_ , she was going to  _explode_  --

She’s as shameless as a cat in heat, thrusting her hips up to match his fingers stroking through her wet folds, but she doesn’t _care, nothing_  should feel this good. “ _Fuck_ ,” she breathes. “Fucking _fuck_ , that’s good.”

Each stroke sends sparks of pleasure coursing through her body, from her toes to the top of her head and Emma almost cries when he slides two fingers inside her. “Absolutely breathtaking,” he whispers, thrusting his fingers in deeper, rubbing the spot that made her see stars. “Tis a shame your husband doesn’t care to see how astonishing you look in the throes of passion.”

 _Throes of passion_? She would have laughed if she wasn’t -- if he -- “Oh,  _God!_ ” she cried as her orgasm overtook her, her body convulsing, taking his fingers in deeper.

“Tell me he doesn’t taste you,” he says roughly, slipping off the bed and between her knees, his fingers never leaving her as he gently brings her down from her high. “Tell me all you need is my tongue fucking you, tasting you, driving you mad.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Emma cries, not entirely aware of what she was agreeing to but  _God_  she needs more.

She hopes the walls are soundproof, because if his fingers are talented, they have nothing on his mouth. She twists her fingers through his dark, thick hair, pulling when his tongue slid over her sensitive clit, pushing him further when he slipped inside her still-shuddering entrance. “Like that,” she whispers again and again. “Oh, God, just like that. Don’t stop, never stop.”

When she comes again, her thighs squeeze against his head and she can feel him laughing against her core as he tongues her through it.

Emma’s breathing slows as he lifts his head from between her legs. Roughly, she pulls him up to her, tasting herself on his lips as she kisses him, pulling his shirt off and undoing his pants in rapid succession. What she wouldn’t give for her magic here, she’d lock his clothes in a trunk and never let him see them again -- as it was, she can feel the pull of the darker side of her magic, the need for  _something_  almost blinding her from intensity. He shucks his clothes away, mouth never leaving hers, and she flips them, pinning him under her. She grips his thick cock, pumping it a few times to see the way he closes his eyes and groans at the feel of her hand and that -- more than magic, more than darkness -- makes her feel  _powerful_.

She takes him inside her quickly, not wanting to bother with slow any more, the darkness not  _allowing_  for slow anymore. Emma rocks her hips against his experimentally as he nods. She grips his shoulders as she begins to move, his hips thrusting up into hers, filling her and making her toes curl every time he hit that spot deep inside. Her nails bite deep into his skin, almost drawing blood -- she thinks she’ll have to apologize later, but the way he’s gripping her wrist and the look on his face tells her he might be enjoying it almost  _too_ much. “Buggering  _hells_ , love,” he grunts, meeting her thrust for thrust, and she knows what he means. “Feel so good. So hot, fucking  _tight_ ,” he bites out.

Emma picks up the pace, chasing her orgasm, the darkness urging her selfish desires to come around him before he even  _thinks_  of having an orgasm. “Come on, love,” he murmurs, his hand palming her breast. “Let’s see your face this time, there’s a girl.”

His murmured encouragements help and in moments she’s crying out, the feeling of him inside her as her walls ripple around him more wonderful than she’d hoped. Another moment and she feels him pulse inside her, his own orgasm triggered by hers, and she just wants to collapse onto his chest.

Instead, he pulls her down and lays her on her side, never pulling his cock from her core, kissing her thoroughly. “Feel better, darling?” Killian asks.

“God, that was good,” she say, panting.

Her lips tingle with magic, a magic that overcomes all realms -- even those without magic-- as he kisses her again, both of their hands resting on the dagger still strapped to her thigh. True Love’s Kiss could fix any curse, but until they had a solution to rid the world of the darkness forever... Emma lives as a vessel, containing the darkness but never  _fully_  succumbing to it.

Killian helps, to put it mildly.

Their love reassured, she feels the darkness inside retreat, pulling back to the magical prison in her heart. “I love you,” she whispers.

“And I love you, Emma Jones,” he murmurs, grinning at her new name. If she’s honest with herself, it thrills her a little as well to hear it. “But I  _lack_  in the bedroom, really?  _That_  was the tale you chose to tell?”

She hums in amusement, shoving him a little. He hadn’t been sure of her little roleplaying idea when she’d brought it up, though she’d dropped hints on how it would play out. “Come on, I had to bring out your competitive side  _somehow_.”

He growls, pulling her closer to him and making her gasp, feeling him still buried inside her. “Oh, I’ll show  _you_  competitive, Swan.”

She laughs as he rolls her onto her back. She’s suddenly glad she’d sprung for the good tequila earlier: she has a feeling they aren’t leaving their room for the rest of the trip.


	18. Masturbation during the Missing Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Yes, hello there. Could you write a fic based during the missing year (s3) where Killian's hand...wanders while thinking of Emma?"
> 
> So yes, angsty masturbation, here we go!

Sailors are a superstitious lot.  _Never kill an albatross, lad_ , his first captain had warned, all those years ago. _If ye be killin’, ye be wearin’ it ‘til we run ashore_.

 _Red sky at night, sailor’s delight_ , Liam would often say.

 _Red sky at morning, sailors take warning_ , Killian would always finish.

Whistling up storms. Lucky cats. Women aboard.

_Women._

Perhaps the old tales aren’t entirely incorrect about women aboard a ship.

She’s been aboard the  _Jolly Roger_  all of thrice: once when she commandeered it in the land without magic, once on their way to Neverland, and once on the journey home. Yet her spirit lingers. A flash of golden hair at twilight, the fruity scent she wore breezing past his nose in the hold, pale hands gripping the ropes. And this only in his waking hours.

His dreams are filled with her, her cautious smile, her fierce green eyes. The memory of their first ( _only_ ) kiss is seared into his mind, her lips pressed against his to prove a point, to answer a challenge. The pause for breath before assailing each other again, jungle sweat and heat stoking their need for one another. Her hand in his hair, grasping his coat ( _good luck comes to those who touch a sailor’s collar_ ), his hand searching -- drifting down -- hers finding him hard and wanting --

Killian wakes with a start, tossing his blankets aside in his haste. The air in his cabin is stale, the room too hot for their coordinates -- undoubtedly his thrashing had warmed the room. With a grunt, he gets out of bed, no mind paid to his lack of clothing. He peers out the glass: the sky is black as pitch, the stars twinkling distantly. A clear night. A cool one, no doubt, to ease the heat under his skin. He gently eases one window pane open, allowing a gust to circulate the air and allow him to sleep again.

With a sigh, he lays on his bunk once more, trying to will his arousal away. No, Neverland had never gone that far. He’d desired it then as much as he desires it now, the feel of Emma writhing against him, her breaths sharp in his ear, pleading -- no. Emma would never beg, she’d make  _him_  beg for his release. The thought makes him grin. Yes, Emma would be a maelstrom in his bed, pulling him down and bending him to her will, and  _gods_ , he’d love every moment of it.

His cock twinges with need and Killian sighs. It’s bad form to pleasure oneself with the thought of a lady one has never bedded. Yet...

He’ll never see her again. Never know for sure the feel of her hand on his cock. (His own hand, now that it’s grasping and pulling on his rigid flesh, is a poor substitute for how he imagines her lithe fingers would feel wrapped around him.) Never know how she’d look, wrapping her pretty lips around his length, taking him in fully and without qualm. (She’d be grand at it, for certain. She can do anything, Emma Swan.) Perhaps she’d catch his eyes with hers, staring at him the entire time, making him watch as she sucked him off -- swallowing every last drop.

 _It’s not enough_ , he thinks desperately, pausing a moment to lick a stripe of spit up his palm. Like every sailor before him, usually with nothing but their hands to ease the loneliness of life at sea, he finds this activity less appealing without the help of a friend.  _Emma_.

His hand glides over his aching cock faster, pausing occasionally to swirl the leaking precum over the tip, wishing desperately to watch Emma tasting him. His breath hitches, imagining himself tasting  _her_. How he despairs at the realms that separate them, keeping him from seeing her in all her glory. He imagines her breasts heaving under his careful ministrations; her desperate whines and gasps would be music to his ears. He’d lick the sweat from the column of her throat, undoubtedly listening to her curse the air blue as he denied her their shared wish.

 _Gods_ , but she would feel glorious, soft and pink and wet under his fingers.

(His cock aches, desperate to sheathe itself inside her welcoming body, worlds apart from where he is now. He’s close to release, rewetting his palm again in a poor imitation of her sex.)

Glorious to his fingers, but surely the taste of her would be even better. She’d be sweet, he decides as he breathes hard, her name a whimper on his lips. She’d dig her fingers into his hair, pulling and cursing his ancestors as he fucked her with his tongue, sucking on that little nub that made every woman fall apart at the seams --

She’d be perfect, her face radiant as she cried his name, riding his face through her pleasure.

Killian whines deep in his throat as he comes, imagining how Emma would look lost in the throes of pleasure. His hips buck hard off the bunk, his slick release coating his hand and thighs in thick ropes. Another few moments and he’s relaxing against the pillow, fighting to breathe the cool air and calm his racing heart.

The need to clean himself is only slightly stronger than the need to find a way,  _any_  way, back to the land without magic and to  _her_.


	19. Menstrual Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "hi! could you write emma during her period for the first time since they had sex and killian wanting her anyway bc hes horny as fuck?"
> 
> A quick perusal of the tags has revealed zero CS fics with this angle. Obviously this needed to be corrected quickly.
> 
>  
> 
> **You've seen the prompt and the title, you know what's coming.**

He’s making eyes at her again.

Specifically, he’s making  _those eyes_  at her again, the ones that promise dizzying, filthy pleasure in their bedroom. (Or the kitchen… or the laundry room… or the hallway…) 

(They haven’t been having sex for that long, is there  _any_  part of the house they haven’t christened?) 

(On second thought, no. No there is not.) 

And she  _knows_  it’s been two days, but it’s  _only been two days_. They’ve got _at least_ another four before her period is over, so he’s just going to have to get reacquainted with his hand.

(It’s not like she  _doesn’t_  want to, it’s just...)

Emma pointedly ignores Killian, salting the popcorn and then going into the living room. She hears him follow her; they’re in the middle of a movie marathon, taking advantage of a quiet moment to continue his education in pop culture. As she moves to sit on the couch again, he takes the bowl from her hands and sets it aside. He wraps a possessive arm around her and brings her in close, molding her back to his front. “Killian,” Emma says, but whatever she was going to say is lost as he drags his tongue along the side of her neck.

“Sod the moving pictures,” he murmurs in her ear, taking the lobe between her teeth.

She can feel him hard against the curve of her ass. She moans a little as his hand comes up and gently cups her breast, his tongue running along the shell of her ear. “This isn’t – this isn’t a good idea,” she manages to say, punctuating it with a whine as his thumb grazes her oversensitive nipple.

“Mm… so you’ve said,” he rumbles, kissing his way down her neck again, pausing to nibble at the juncture where it meets her shoulder.

Emma’s head falls back to rest against his shoulder, enjoying his touch far too much as he ignites a fire low in her belly. He’s stirring something in her that she’s not going to be able to control. It’s a problem, this needs to  _stop_  – “ _Fuck_ , don’t stop,” she bites out as Killian finds  _another_  sensitive spot under her ear, running his tongue along it teasingly.

It’s not a good idea for one very good reason: Emma really,  _really_  likes having sex while she’s on her period.

It’s messy and she’s found that most men don’t care for it. But she loves it – her hormones kick her sex drive into high gear, there’s no awkward pauses for lube if the guy is terrible at foreplay (though Killian isn’t, she’s never had to worry about that with him), orgasms help her cramps, and she could go on for ages before she’s sated.

 _This can_ not _happen – oh fuck_ , Emma thinks as Killian’s hand slips under her shirt, his rings cool on her skin. Once, sure, but what if he decides it’s too much? She’s been going crazy keeping her hands to herself for the last two days. She’ll have a much harder time resisting him every month if they do it now. What’s that saying… better to have fucked and lost than never fucked at all? Yeah, fuck that.

“Killian, stop,” Emma insists, moving his hand away from trying to undo her bra. “Please.”

He doesn’t make a noise, but she can imagine the little muscle in his jaw jumping as he grinds his teeth in frustration. “What’s wrong?” he asks instead, his voice husky.

She turns in his embrace, resting her hands on his chest. “We just… we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

She drops her gaze, watching her fingers play with his necklace chain. The light glances off the little sword charm. “It’s just not a good idea,” she says lamely. The ache between her legs is almost unbearable, but this is for her own good. She’ll make do with the showerhead later.

“Emma, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Killian admonishes gently. “If this is a matter of thinking of yourself as unappealing to me, rest assured that there are no circumstances under which I would find you unattractive.”

She laughs a little. “No, it’s not that. I can definitely tell  _that_ ,” she says as he rolls his hips into hers. His erection is solid through their many layers of clothing. The pressure is just enough to tease her, making her bite her lip against the urge to throw him down on the floor and have him right here. “It’s just…” She hates how difficult it is to talk about herself with him. But when she looks up again, he’s watching her patiently, lovingly even. “What if you don’t like it?”

Her voice feels small and she feels herself shrinking a little further as his eyebrows furrow quizzically. “If I don’t –”

“Because I do,” she says in a rush. “I  _really_  do, and if you decide after one time you don’t, I might go cra –”

He cuts her off, surging forward and kissing her, devouring her like he’s a man starving and she’s the first food he’s seen in days. His arms slide down her body to anchor under her ass, hitching her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms going around his neck; her head’s spinning from the way his lips move against hers, sucking on her lip in that way that makes her melt. He’s moving -- she snickers against his lips as he carries her into the bedroom, hardly stumbling – she’ll have to remember to comment on his ability to multitask later but  _oh_  –

He drops her onto the bed, grinning as she squeaks and bounces on the mattress. He drops to his knees, gently sliding her pajama pants down her legs. Her core clenches when their eyes meet; his pupils are blown wide with desire, those dark, dirty promises about to come to fruition. “Emma,” Killian says, his hand gliding up her thigh, making her shiver in anticipation. “Believe me when I tell you that your woman’s time does not appear anywhere on the  _extraordinarily_  short list of occasions when I will  _not_  wish to join with you.”

“Oh,” she breathes, trying to think as his fingers play with the elastic on her panties. “What’s on that short list?”

“It more or less begins and ends with you shapeshifting into someone else.”

She laughs at that, her heart light with the love she had for him, and reaches down to knock his hand away. “Alright, Casanova. Give me a few minutes to get ready first.”

He inclines his head slightly as she gets up and goes into the bathroom to clean herself a little – just because this is happening doesn’t mean it has to be a bloodbath. Emma sheds the rest of her clothes and grabs a towel when she’s done; Killian’s turned down the bed while she was busy, and she lays the towel out on it as a precaution.

He’s on her in an instant, half-undressed himself. He sighs her name when she kisses him back with just as much need. His hand buries itself in her hair, pulling in that way that sends pure want zipping all the way down to her toes. Emma groans into his mouth as his tongue caresses hers. She reaches between them, undoing his belt and pants, letting gravity take care of the rest as he lifts her again and sets her on the bed. Killian kicks off his pants and underwear, climbing up to lay his body over hers. “Hello, love,” he murmurs, nudging her nose with his.

“Hi.”

His kiss is gentler this time, leaving her breathless as he breaks from her lips and makes his way down her body. Her breasts are almost hypersensitive, but he seems to have a sixth sense for when his touch is about to hurt. His tongue is soothing on her nipples, swirling and lapping gently; he blows cool air over them, causing them to harden and him to grin when she whines. “Good?” Killian asks softly before mouthing her peak.

Emma nods, not trusting her voice, but her clit  _aches_  with arousal. She’s afraid she’s going to come before he even  _touches_  her center – she’s never done  _that_ before, and if it’s one thing he  _doesn’t_  need it’s that kind of ego-boost.

However, that sixth sense seems to be working because his hand is sliding down her body – leaving her skin tingling in its wake – and he’s shifting his weight off of her. Emma hisses when his fingers slip between her soaked folds. He pauses and she whips her head up to glare at him. “Don’t you  _dare_  stop,” she orders.

He grins, one finger starting to circle her clit and Emma lets her head fall back; the sound she makes is something between a whine and a sigh, happy just for some relief of the ache. His fingers slip down further, teasing her entrance for a moment before he inserts two. It’s just enough width to satisfy her, stretching her – his fingers crook slightly, teasing that sensitive spot inside that makes her toes curl, the one that’s even more sensitive than usual –  _Good, so good, don’t stop…_

“Breathe, love,” Killian teases.

Emma’s eyes open as she inhales, just in time to watch him duck his head over her, his mouth joining his fingers on her center. “Killian, wait –” She practically bows off the bed when his tongue presses flat against her clit as his fingers continue to fuck her.  _Oh God_ , she thinks, pleasure building at an obscene pace inside of her. No one’s ever done this to her before, never wanted to go down on her like  _this_  – “Don’t stop, please don’t –  _Killian_!”

She’s flying, her orgasm shuddering through her entire body. Her hands grasp for anything to cling to because he’s  _relentless_ , fingers coaxing her through it, tongue working her higher – or is he building her up again? She can’t tell as she settles for gripping the rungs on the headboard. “Again,” she pleads, not quite down from her high. “Do that again?”

“As you wish.”

He pulls his red-stained fingers away, making her whine again, but she inhales sharply when she feels cold metal – his hook. “Oh, fuck me…” Emma whispers, closing her eyes tight.

Killian chuckles, the vibrations against her center making her jump. “That’s the eventual idea, darling.”

The curve of his hook circles her clit, slipping between her folds as his tongue enters her. Emma squirms, her thighs squeezing his head. It makes him laugh again. His scruff tickles her sensitive skin, the little pricks of pain sending arousal zipping under her skin like lightning. Every so often his tongue would trace an identical path opposite his hook, making her buck off the bed with want. “ _Please_ ,” Emma says. Her nerves are singing, her entire body aflame, needing to come again.

Killian thrusts his tongue inside her again, the cool glide of metal increasing in pace against her clit, and in moments she’s coming again, breathing hard while his hand steadies her waist – he’s moved his hook, not wanting to accidentally pierce or puncture her.

When he lifts himself up on his elbow, she chuckles weakly as he holds up his red-smeared hook. “Bit of an unusual way to get a man’s hook bloody, wouldn’t you say, Swan?” he asks, his grin sinful, one eyebrow cocked in that smug way she loved. There’s more red in his beard now than ginger, and he’s got a spot of it on his nose.

Instead of answering, she resists the urge to roll her eyes as she grabs the edge of the towel and motions for him to wipe off his face. He obliges her before climbing back up to meet her face again. “Not had enough, I hope?” he asks.

“Never,” Emma tells him, drawing one of her legs up and looping it around his waist.

She reaches for his cock, silky and firm under her touch. She pumps it a few times for good measure, watching in delight as his smug face morphs to a pleasure-filled one. She positions him at her entrance, sighing with relief when he sinks into her. “Gods above, Swan…” Killian moans, dropping his head to rest on her shoulder.

She might come again as he fully sheaths himself in her aching sex, and he’s not even  _moving_ yet. “Fuck me now, pray later,” she says, a bit breathless herself.

He feels wonderful, filling her with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside her. Emma brings her other leg to wrap around him, shifting her hips and the angle and – _yes, right there,_  she thinks with a gasp, her eyes flying open _._  Killian’s soft groans in her ear only arouse her further as he thrusts into her again and again. “So good, Emma,” he murmurs, sounding lost to his lust even as he increases his pace. “So wet, tight… you feel so bloody good around me…”

She can’t help it – she starts to giggle. After a moment, he realizes what he’s said and starts to laugh too. The combined motions from laughter and his relentless pace send Emma over the edge again. Her laughter turns to cries of pleasure as she bucks her hips up into his; he stills when she does, allowing her a moment’s reprieve. When she opens her eyes, he’s looking at her with a mixture of curiosity, wonder, and amusement. “Swan, remember that list?”

“Yeah,” she says, pressing her hand to her forehead. Unsurprisingly, she feels flushed.

“I’m making a new one.”

“Are you, now.”

He catches her lips with his as he begins to thrust into her again. When they part, she’s breathless again and feeling another orgasm building already. “Yes,” Killian tells her. “A list of occasions when I  _absolutely_  want to join with you. This tops it.”

Emma grits her teeth, trying to think of anything that might slow her next climax down. She doesn’t want him getting _too_  smug. “You just like how easy it is to make me come like this,” she counters.

“Oh indeed, but not because it’s tiring normally,” he says calmly, as if he discussed his lovemaking habits while currently making love to her every day. “I have a feeling you’re nowhere near satisfied, and I intend to break new records with this. Perhaps monthly.”

 _Oh, God_. The imagery that springs to her mind goes straight to her clit, making her whine until he picks up his pace again. The angle’s changed though, it’s not right. Emma grits her teeth again and, with speed that would impress her later, manages to flip them so she’s on top. Killian lifts that damn eyebrow at her again as she wraps her hand around his necklace, bracing herself on his chest with her other hand. She throws her head back as she bounces on his cock, sighing with happiness as he hits the right spot again. “Come for me, Emma, I know there’s another one in you,” Killian growls.

His hand finds her center, thumb swiping against her clit. She clenches herself around his cock with each bounce, trying to drag him into ecstasy with her. “You too,” she says breathlessly. “You come too.”

Another moment and stars explode under her skin again – she’s crying out his name, her nails digging into his chest, and then he’s rutting his hips against hers as he chokes out her name.

She can’t hear anything but the pounding of her own heart in her ears and their heavy breathing. It takes a moment for the heat under her skin to cool, but it’s only banked, not extinguished. “Shit,” she says finally, laughing a bit.

Killian shifts, slinging his good arm under his head. “Better?”

She shakes her head, smiling ruefully. “Not really, but it’s good for now.”

He looks thoughtful. “Well… it does appear we need to clean up after ourselves,” he says slowly. She grimaces a bit, glancing down at the bloody, smeary mess coating both of their thighs and wondering where he’s going with this. “And you do have that delightful attachment in your shower…”

Emma’s eyebrows raise appreciatively. “I like the way you think, Jones.”

Killian grins. “Shall we take this to the bath then, Swan?”

Her legs are a little wobbly, but they manage to make it. The cleaning part is quick – what drives up her water bill is the relentless way he teases her core with the detachable showerhead. In the end, he manages to make her come twice more in the shower, once with his tongue and once with the showerhead. As they collapse into the cleaned-up bed later, he asks, “So, is this a monthly thing now?”

Emma sighs happily, curling herself around him and using his chest as a pillow. “Definitely.”

It’s not until morning that she remembers the long-forgotten popcorn, or that they left the TV on.


	20. Continuation of Ch. 16 (4B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "You should totally continue that first time on the Jolly with what Killian said they'd do later..."
> 
> Continuation of chapter 16, but this takes place during the s4 finale on the bed that got cut off _way too soon_.

The need to kiss him is overwhelming, more than the reassurance that he is  _here_ , he is  _alive_ , he’s not bleeding out on the dirty cobblestones of a marketplace in another world. She presses her lips against his in desperation, curling her fingers in his thick hair, pouring in the love she can’t find the courage to voice aloud, feeling his grip on her thigh tighten. Her kisses are hungry – biting, teasing, licking, sucking – leaving them both dizzy for lack of air.

“Emma,” he murmurs, pulling away to catch his breath, but she brings him back with a fierce  _no_ , needing him more than she’s ever needed anyone. He pulls back after a moment, his hair delightfully disheveled, lips pink and swollen. “Emma, your parents are downstairs.”

“Don’t care,” she insists, moving to kiss him again, but he squeezes her thigh to stop her. She bites back a whine, instead dropping her head against his shoulder. “I seriously need my own place,” she mutters. His agreement belies his own frustration with the situation.

Downstairs, she hears the door open and close in a hurry. Frowning, Emma stands and looks over the railing: the living area is empty. “What the hell?” she mutters.

She’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. They have a few minutes alone at least and she’s not going to squander them wondering why her parents left in such a rush. She turns back to Killian with determination, smirking a little at the wary look he’s fixed on her. “Lass, I don’t like the look on your –”

She gently shoves him back on the bed, determined to fulfill a desire she’s had since that evening on the  _Jolly Roger_  last week. He props himself up on his elbows. “I believe you made me a promise, Captain,” she murmurs, dropping to her knees and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Did I?” His voice sounds strained as he realizes what she’s doing. “Might I beg for a refresher on that promise?”

She smirks again. It’s not the only thing he’ll beg for. She glances up at him through her eyelashes and thoroughly enjoying the wrecked look on his face: tousled hair from earlier, pupils blown out to make his eyes look a darker blue than usual, flushed and lips parted as he watches her work his pants open. She sighs with happiness when she frees his cock – it’s thick and hot and heavy in her hand, his skin silky when she gently pumps him. His breaths come short as he anticipates her next move – she wants to taste the precum on the tip, make him writhe under her, hear more of those delicious moans and sharp inhales. “I believe what you said was,” she said, lowering herself to drag her tongue along the vein and earning a hissed _“fucking hells”_ for her trouble, “’I’ll fuck that mouth of yours soon enough.’”

She tilts her head slightly, blinking in an innocent way that she knows drives men crazy, and Killian is no exception to the rule. She loves him like this, the flush creeping down his neck, the pained expression on his face a ruse for how turned on he was. She has one more card to lay on the table. “Unless you didn’t mean it?” Emma asks coyly.

The burning  _need_  in his eyes tells her he wants nothing more than to drag her up to him and bruise her lips with a kiss and maybe they’ll do that another time. 

(Maybe she’ll convince him to pull her up by her hair – or maybe he’s already thinking that, and  _fuck_  she’s already so fucking wet for him.)

She masks her arousal with another smirk, bowing over his cock and mouthing the tip, swirling her tongue around and along his slit, humming with satisfaction at the salty taste of him. Killian’s head falls back, a guttural groan tearing from his lips as she takes him in deeper.

He’s big: his cock stretching her mouth is just as arousing as his cock stretching her core. She takes it slow, having every intention of making this last as long as she can. A hint of teeth makes him curse, opening her throat and taking him deep and fast makes him cry out. Dragging her lips up along his length slowly and mouthing the tip again has him whispering filthy prayers in her name.

He’s a talker – she knew that, she knew from the moment she met him that he’d be a vocal one in bed (not that she’d thought about bedding him from that first moment, nope) – but it’s  _infinitely_  satisfying when she can reduce him to broken sentences or no sentences at all.

His hand buries itself in her hair, bobbing her head for her to match the minute thrust of his hips. Emma smiles around his cock, taking him deeper. She relaxes her throat, humming when he tries to thrust harder. Her hands still his hips, ignoring his grumbled  _“Can’t bloody well fuck you if you don’t let me, love”_  in favor of sucking hard as she pulls away, leaving him gasping and pleading for release.

She trades her mouth for her hand, pumping him slowly as she worked out the lockjaw for a moment. Emma really, really loves watching him like this, breathless and whispering pleas falling from his lips like prayers to a goddess she might have known of in another life. But she likes this, likes reducing her fearsome pirate captain to a mere mortal who grasps at sheets and tears holes in her comforter with the tip of his hook.  _This_  – more than the magic that courses through her veins or curses that tear them all to other worlds or anything else she’s grown to know over the last few years –  _this_  makes her feel powerful.

“Please,” he’s begging her now. “ _Please_ , Emma, you’re going to kill me.”

She should stop now, punishment for making her heart leap in fear again, but she’s not that cruel.

She takes his cock in her mouth again, hand wrapped around the base and pumping in time with the way her mouth slips over his rigid length. Killian’s hips thrust with her, her name a breathless chant on his lips,  _Emma Emma Emma Emma_ , and then she feels him stiffen further in her mouth before he comes, scorching and salty in her mouth as his stifled cry reaches her ears.

She swallows every drop, easing off of him gently. Seeing him now – chest heaving and red-faced, a dopey grin on his face that makes him look years younger – Emma wants to tell him, wants to say _I love you, Killian,_  but after a display like that… It feels a little juvenile. She wants to see the look on his face when she says it – the genuine emotion and expression at hearing her confession, not the post-orgasmic bliss he wears now.

Though that’s pretty good too.

She climbs up onto the bed next to him, giggling again when he cups the back of her neck and brings her down against him for another kiss, this one in gratitude and probably love and not in a  _I’m-so-fucking-happy-you’re-alive_  way. She butts her forehead against his again. “Do I pass muster, captain?” she teases.

“With flying colors, darling.”

His hand slips down her side, reaching for her own pants, but she shakes her head. She has no idea how much time has passed between the book and real life and she does  _not_ want to know what the situation is down there or expose him to it, and tells him so. “However,” she adds as an afterthought. “There is a bright side to this world. Indoor plumbing,” she explains at his quizzical eyebrow.

“Ah, indeed,” Killian agrees, a mischievous light in his eyes that lets her know he’s already way ahead of her. “Were you looking for company or assistance?”

Emma smiles. She’d been wondering for a while now what shower sex with him would be like. “Maybe I just need someone to show me how to use it.”

His grin darkens to something feral. “As you wish.”


	21. The Dust Storm AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> captain--kitten put out an APB for CS smut based on that life-ruining trailer. I'm not responsible for my actions.

“What’s your favorite memory?”  


His accent’s more diluted than she remembers, another reminder of how long it’s been since they last saw each other. Seven years and he still looks good enough to eat. “Of all time?” Emma asks playfully, circling the rim of her pint glass with a finger. She tries to think of something, _anything_ really, that isn’t related to the hungry way he’s drinking her in.

“Of us.”  


_Oh, fuck_.

She meets his gaze warily, resisting the urge to watch as his tongue traces the inside of his lip – a dirty trick, a reminder of the way his tongue traced _other_ lips –

_Hands fumbling at her belt; desperate kisses; licking, biting, sucking – she needs him, needs to_ fuck _him; to feel his strong, calloused fingers squeezing her hips as he slides into her with firm strokes. He has other ideas though, his hands removing hers from his own belt. She can’t look away from him, his deep blue eyes holding hers captive as he slides down her body, peeling her jeans down her legs as he went._

_He flashes that infuriating grin at her seconds before he pulls her panties to one side, licking up her slit and making her writhe against the fucking bathroom wall –_ Jesus _, he needs to get on with –_ oh _._

_He parts her lips with his fingers and devours her, lapping at her clit and drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Her hands find purchase in his hair, threading through his tangled mane and pulling hard every time he sucked on her swollen nub. She opens her mouth in a silent scream when he plunges two fingers inside of her dripping sex – it’s not enough but_ fuck _it’s better than nothing –_

_She’s riding his face, desperately seeking release, his name a prayer on her lips –_ Killian, Killian, Killian _– as he murmured encouragements against her heat, “Come on, love, let me see you fall.”_

_When she comes, she sags against the wall, her knees protesting the need to stay upright. He stands, lifting her up in his strong arms, kissing her thoroughly – she loves tasting herself on him._

_He settles her on the rim of the sink as she regains enough strength to free his thick cock from the confines of his jeans. She strokes him as he digs a condom out of his wallet, taking it and sliding it over him after he rips it out of the foil packet. “Ready?” he asks, his voice rough with desire._

_“Please,” she whispers, opening her legs as far as she can.  
_

_He takes her in one stroke, filling her up with ease; her head falls back with a moan as he begins thrusting into her, baring her neck for him to bite, lick, suck – “_ Fuck _,” she breathes, hating her jeans around her ankles, just wanting to wrap her legs around him and urge him to go faster._

_His lips meet hers, kissing her hungrily. His hands grip her hips tightly; she’s going to have bruises and she’s going to love every fucking minute of it. She bites at his chin, relishing in the little breathy moans she can elicit from him. “Come on, music man,” she whispers in his ear. “Show me what you’ve got.”_

_“Emma,” he bites out, one hand slipping up her shirt to pinch her nipples over her bra._  


“Emma?”

She blinks, suddenly back in the bar where they’d met so many years ago. Killian’s watching her curiously. She smiles, hoping the lights are dim enough that he doesn’t notice her blush. “Your turn,” she says brightly, fully aware that she didn’t answer his question at all.

But the way his eyes flick down to her chest makes her wonder if he knows what she was thinking about anyway.


	22. CS Smut Fest: "Make Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the month of August, there's a smut festival happening in the fandom. Naturally this happens when I have time to do none of the things, so my few and far between contributions will likely be little drabbles or flash pieces or whatnot. (long-form smut is hard! *rimshot*)

She’d been a little overconfident.

 _Make me_.

Make her stop teasing him about his age, the stack of books he’d borrowed from Belle, the way he folded his goddamn socks. The glint in his eyes told her he was more than willing to try.

 _Make me_.

Make her moan as he bit on her lip, bodies pressed up against the wall, feeling him thick and hard pressed against her center through their clothes.

 _Make me_.

Make her whine as he slid down her body, tearing off clothing as he went. Make her bruise her lips further, worrying them between her teeth when he peeled off her panties almost reverently, licking up her slit before parting and feasting on her core.

 _Make me_.

Make her knot her fingers in his hair to keep him where he was, writhing against his face as his tongue circled her clit. Make her bite back a cry of relief when he thrust his tongue into her, drinking her in.

“Make me come, Killian,” she whined.

“As you wish, princess.”


	23. Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon wanted: "Can you please write something like Killian catches Emma play with herself and he watches her for a bit and then helps her out?"

Maybe she was more of a voyeur than she originally thought.

She wanted him to catch her. Wanted him to walk through the door to their bedroom and see her on their bed, legs splayed wide for him to see the way she toyed with herself. Emma loved Killian, loved the things he could do to her, but right now he was taking his sweet-ass time getting home and she needed to be well and truly  _fucked_.

Since he wasn’t here, she’d just have to take care of things herself.

And really, while she loved the things he could do to her, she loved what she could do to herself. She loved having him watch her pleasure herself. The thought of his hungry gaze watching the way her hands squeezed her breasts brought his name to her lips.

Maybe he’d watch from the door – she’d left it open just a few inches. Maybe he’d spy on her, finding his own pleasure at catching her in such an intimate moment. Maybe he’d take his cock in hand, stroking himself at the sight of her fingers swirling slick circles around her clit. Maybe the sight of her fingers sinking into her wet heat would make him moan in that way she liked – the one deep in his throat, the one that she could feel all the way down in her toes. Maybe her heart would be pounding so hard that she wouldn’t be able to hear it.

Maybe he’d stride through that door – half-undressed, cock red and ready for her to take – move her hand aside and eat her. She bit back a moan at the thought of his beard scraping her thighs, his tongue pressing flat against her clit, his fingers dipping into her dripping sex.

Her own fingers faltered for a moment, a jolt zipping through her at the thought of how good it felt when his lips closed around her clit and sucking. She renewed her efforts with determination, one hand squeezing and pinching her breasts and the other sliding along her clit.

She gasped when the door banged open and Killian strode in, eyes blazing with lust. “Someone’s been a very dirty girl,” he whispered, standing at the foot of the bed and working the buttons off his vest.

His eyes raking over her body – wild and hungry, just the way she’d imagined – pushed her over the edge, sending her hips jerking upward as she hissed out his name, the world outside her orgasm melting away. She was vaguely aware of his hand lifting hers to his mouth. He licked her fingers clean, tongue swirling around them and sucking just enough to send sparks of desire flaring to life inside her again. “Haven’t had enough, have you?” he murmured against her palm, pressing kisses to it and down her wrist.

Her eyes met his and she grinned. “No, I just got tired of waiting,” Emma said.


	24. Continuation of Ch. 20 (4B canon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted another continuation, this should be the last part of this 4B smut!

_This a familiar position_ , she thinks as he pins her to the wall with his lips and hips pressed against hers. Only the last time wasn’t sopping wet, with shampoo still in her hair and steam making it harder to breathe than his kisses -- sweet and rough all at once, trading between caressing and sucking on her lips. There’s absolutely no way she’s walking away from this without looking like she’s been thoroughly ravished by a greedy pirate.

And she’s really, really okay with that.

Killian eases off her, lips still fused to hers, and carefully turns her into the shower spray. She sighs against him as his hand gently massages the top of her head, washing the shampoo out. “I thought about this,” he says softly, barely audible over the rush of water around her ears.

“You thought about showering with me?” she asks, blissed out by the feel of his hand in her hair.

He chuckles, deep and rich and dark, pulling her flush against him. “I’ve thought about many things, Swan, but I refer to one incident in particular.” He catches her lips again, fingers digging into her hip as he circles his hips against hers in a dirty grind. Emma practically melts into the tub. He breaks the kiss to leave a trail of them along her cheek and up to her ear. He bites the shell gently before whispering, “In the book, I thought about us.”

His hand slips up her side, skirting the side of her breast in a delicious tease. “You -- ah -- you didn’t remember us,” she manages to say, gasping as his hand slides down her back to her ass and one finger slides along the sensitive split between her cheeks.

Killian groans in her ear as he squeezes her, making her jump and writhe against him. “No, but I knew enough. I knew there was a glorious woman,” he pauses to suck a mark into the side of her neck, “who could save a kingdom,” he moves down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, “who looked at me like I was the light of her life.”

There’s a line of hickeys all the way down to her shoulders, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t want him to stop. This is what makeup is for, after all. “More,” she breathes, clinging to him. She needs him to touch her, feel her everywhere, make her forget all about that horrible sight in the marketplace.

He slips his hand between them, roughly grabbing her breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers as he talks. “This woman who knew how to take down a dragon, who wore breeches that showed off every delicious curve of her arse -- aye, I thought about it. I thought about burying myself to the hilt in that sweet arse, wondered what sounds you would make if you rode my cock. I wanted to know what it was like to have such a fierce and kind woman bed me.”

“Bed  _you_?” Emma asks breathlessly, pleasure coiling between her legs as he played with her. God, she loves it when he talks dirty, filling her head with filthy images. Perfect remedy for what they’ve been through.

“Aye. The other me, he’d never known a woman,” Killian says, punctuating it with another roll of his hips. She moans, imagining what that could have been like -- leading the innocent pirate on his first steps to debauchery. “I had ears, knew what could go where, but never had the pleasure of finding out for myself.”

“Shame,” she gasps as he switches breasts. “Could have been fun -- teaching you.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs, catching her lips again, his tongue briefly sweeping into her mouth. He releases her fully after another moment and she whines in protest, the ache between her legs driving her crazy with want. “You're the one who insisted on getting clean first, darling,” he says with a wicked grin.

Emma huffs -- she did, even if he is being a fucking tease. She reaches for the soap and a washcloth, then tries not to smirk as an idea hits her. No reason she can't tease him in return, right?

She lathers up the washcloth and gives him an innocent look as she starts to rub it over his body. Killian’s eyes darken; she keeps her touches light, coating him in soap and then swirling it around his skin with her other hand. She can hardly hear over the water the little sounds of pleasure he makes, little sighs and moans that she loves so much. The washcloth dips lower and lower, her fingers following not far behind: skimming his hard stomach, tracing the cut V-lines above his hips, skirting around where his cock juts proudly at attention. “Emma,” he growls, his voice low and strained.

She exhales in a rush, drinking in his needy expression. She loves bringing him to the edge of his control like this.

She’s gentle, wrapping her hand and the cloth around his cock and pulling just slightly. He moans, head dropping to rest on her shoulder as she pumps him slowly. “Emma, please,” he whispers, lightly thrusting his hips in time with her hand.

“Emma please what?” she asks lightly.

“Want you,” he bites out when she gives his cock a squeeze.

“But I'm not clean yet,” she says coyly.

He snarls, reaching for her hand. He takes the cloth from her, turning her own wicked plans against her -- normally this works out quite well for her. He’s not gentle, running the washcloth over her body in quick swipes, hitting the important parts. The briskness and the slightly coarse material only make her hotter. His head still rests on her shoulder, putting his ear in the perfect position for her to bite. He hisses, retaliating with a bite on his own on her collarbone -- they’re going to mark each other black and blue at this rate.

And she’s really, really okay with that.

The washcloth dips between her legs and Emma freezes, her breath shallow as he works it between her folds. Her hips grind down almost on their own, desperate for any kind of friction. Killian obliges her for a moment, teasing her, letting it build -- and then removes the cloth altogether.

Emma’s going to bite him. And not in the way he’ll like.

He drops the cloth on the floor, grabbing the showerhead instead. She shivers, with hardly a moment to prepare herself before he’s rinsing her off and -- “ _Bastard_ ,” she hisses when he spreads her legs and warm water jets against her clit.

He chuckles again, taking the water away just before she could come. She actually growls this time, but then he’s kissing her and replacing the showerhead. “Aye,” Killian murmurs against her lips. “However… The other me, I'd heard men speak of the taste of a woman -- I wondered how you'd taste.”

His hand travels back down to the apex of her thighs, fingers sliding between her folds again to tease her clit before plunging inside. Emma gasps as he pumps his fingers into her, his thumb working at her clit. Her orgasm is swiftly mounting, just out of reach. “Close,” she bites out. Killian bows his head over her neck again and bites hard before sucking another bruise on her skin; it’s just enough to push her over the edge and Emma bites her lip to keep from screaming.

He eases her down, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to her lips. “Tell me love, how do you taste?” he murmurs in her ear.

He groans in her ear when she licks his fingers clean, swirling her tongue around each digit. “Tangy,” she says, “a little sweet.” 

Then he’s hauling her up and pinning her against the wall. “Tell me you haven’t had enough.”

Emma grips his chin in one hand, making him look at her. “I need you in me,” she tells him, sealing it with a kiss.

She wraps her legs around him, one arm around his neck and the other guiding his cock to her aching sex. She wants to cry when he sinks into her, a hot slide that has her toes curling. “God, Killian, _move,_ ” she whimpers, wrapping her other arm around his neck and pressing herself against him as much as she can.

And then he is, his hand and his maimed arm working in tandem with his hips to drive his cock into her. Emma can only hold on and whimper, each thrust hitting spots inside her that have her seeing stars. She can feel the familiar buzz of her magic under her skin and she hardly spares a thought that it won’t do anything to the water -- God, her parents are going to kill her for this water bill --

She cries out as Killian hits a particularly sensitive spot and he grunts; she can feel him trying to aim for it again. “Squeeze me, love, come on.” He’s panting, she can see he’s close. She can’t get her hand between them to rub her clit, but it doesn’t matter because a moment later she feels him pulse inside her, his cries of pleasure enough to send her over the edge again, her walls milking him dry.

He slips out of her with a whimper; her legs are unsteady as her feet hit the floor. They’re gentle with one another and cleaning up, the cooling water refreshing on their skin. They don’t bother with dressing, just gathering clothes and bundling themselves in fluffy towels before going back up to her loft. They collapse on the bed, sated and more than ready for a nap -- Emma only hopes that whatever cleanup there is after this whole author thing can wait until later.

Right now all she wants is to wrap her boyfriend’s arms around her, cuddle under the blankets, and contemplate never leaving the safety of her bed again. 

 


	25. Seeing Emma in a Towel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted: "one where CS hasnt had sex yet but somehow Killian walks in on a naked Emma (maybe just out of the shower) and smut ensues?"
> 
> I tweaked it to be post-5b in some nebulous way. It's feelsy. It's super long. It's about healing.

It's astonishing how much space there is in a king-sized bed with two people sleeping in it.

It's especially astonishing when they're sleeping so far apart.

That first night, neither of them were particularly keen on going to sleep. He'd thought that perhaps, after so many weeks without sleeping and being chained up in the seventh level of hell, they'd like nothing more than to fall into bed and not wake up for a week. Instead, there were awkward glances, hesitant voices, and no inclinations of going upstairs.

Instead, they'd stayed awake another night, sitting in the garden, watching the stars in silence.

They'd slept during the day instead. Daylight was safe. Daylight held fewer shadows in which monsters could hide. Daylight banished the fears that nighttime brought in a handbasket.

Daylight could see the space between their bodies while they slept and it could offer no judgement. Daylight was not for lovers, after all.

It's been almost two weeks since his return from the dead, two weeks of insecurities and hesitancy and general unease. He can't remember the last time they spoke more than three words to each other. He knows it's been days since he's seen her for more than ten minutes. Emma's taken to working nights while her father handles the daytime work of policing the town. Killian fiddles. He paces the decks of the Jolly Roger, he paces the house ( _their_ house), he takes care not to put anything out of place because it still doesn't _feel_ like their house.

It feels like _her_ house. The dark her.

He doesn't know how to make this house into a home. He and Henry had taken such care to find something that could be theirs, something the three of them could make into a warm, loving family's home - something they could possibly fill with more children someday. But right now it's still cold, still so very sterile, still unwelcoming. He doesn't know if she thinks he's still cross with her for saving his life and turning him dark or if she's cross with him for putting up a fuss about leaving hell after all she went through to get him back. He doesn't know a damn thing anymore.

And he doesn't know how to fix it.

The sun is rising when he returns to the house after another long night with so many questions and few answers. It's early enough that he only passes one or two others out and about at such a time. They're understanding - everyone seems to be understanding that the Savior and her pirate need some time to heal away from the bustle of town. Some might accompany this understanding with a wolf-whistle, but he's not sure if he should be ashamed or not that this healing process is entirely platonic.

Gods, he misses kissing her.

He locks the door behind him, leaving his shoes next to her boots near the door. The sight makes his heart twist - it should be a glad thing, this little sign of together and _home_ but right now it's just footwear sitting by the door. He leaves his jacket on the hook by the door as well, then climbs the stairs with weariness in his bones.

Killian fully expects Emma to already be abed when he opens the door. It seems they've started taking turns on who falls into bed first - either out of bad timing or intentional avoidance, he still isn't sure. Instead, he's treated to the sight of her standing at the dresser dressed only in a flimsy towel, her hair half-dried after a shower.

They both freeze. His eyes travel down the length of her body, feeling himself harden at the sight of that long stretch of her legs and knowing that towel hardly covers her arse or anything else. His eyes meet hers again and she looks as skittish as a colt. "Hi," she says quietly.

"Hello," he murmurs, finally averting his gaze. "Apologies, Swan, I didn't realize - I'll just be -"

"No, it's okay," she says, stopping him as he's turning back to the hall. "It's fine, Killian."

He looks at her again at the use of his name. She gives him a small smile, tentative - an olive branch, he realizes. He feels himself smile almost involuntarily in return, unable to resist it when she looks so lovely in the dawn's light. And with that, he can feel some of the tension of the last fortnight begin to ease.

He takes his turn in the shower while she readies herself for bed. His erection is a bit of a problem, but he doesn't care to douse himself in cold water just before attempting to sleep. So he bites his lip with a nervous glance at the closed bathroom door - brown and blurred and still behind the fogged glass of the shower - and takes himself in hand, pumping his cock slowly.

It doesn't take long. He's denied himself for weeks: first through darkness, then in death, then in celibacy. Imagining Emma in that towel, her long legs a trail leading to his favorite treasure in all the realms, quickens the process. He imagines her dropping that towel, beckoning him to her with the sensual smirk he knows so well. He imagines burying his face between her breasts, her gasps and moans for more as he sucks marks into her skin, turns her pretty pink nipples red. Killian doesn't even get to the best part - imagining taking her, feeling her sex squeeze his cock again - before he's choking down a shout as he comes, his seed spilling all over the shower floor.

His hand is fine, but he misses hers. He misses her mouth. He misses the feeling of burying himself inside her to the hilt, wishing he could keep her in their bed forever and make love to her for the rest of their days.

Someday. Maybe. If she'll have him.

Today, he takes another step forward, choosing to sleep without a shirt - usually he finds that wearing one is too confining for his liking, but with how uncertain things have been he hasn't wanted to push Emma further away. He can feel her eyes on him as he exits the bathroom, raking his fingers through his still-damp hair, hoping he doesn't look like he's just had an orgasm. He does his best not to preen any further at the way she's staring at how low his sleeping pants sit on his hips.

Emma twists her hand when he climbs into bed, using her magic for the first time since their return to close the heavy curtains, the kind that keep all light out. He can just make out her smile when she lays back down.

One step at a time.

At some point during their rest, Killian wakes up briefly when he feels something hit him. His sleep-addled mind barely registers the fact that Emma's rolled over practically on top of him, fast asleep herself. He sighs, wrapping his arm around her and burying his face in her hair before falling back asleep himself.

It's afternoon when they wake, arms and legs tangled together, blinking away the confusion of sleep. "Sorry -" they both say at once, backing away from the other instantly before they realize that they'd each sought out the other in the night. They share tentative smiles.

That must count for something, right?

There's little changes over the next fortnight. Waking up in each other's embrace happens more and more often, apologies slowly fade away as they realize it's what they want. The first one up makes the coffee the way the other likes it, leaving it ready and waiting on the counter. There's forehead kisses and hand-squeezes.

Conversation. Small talk. _How was your day? Er, night? Right, that. Ugh, don't get me started. I'm here to listen if you need me. Okay._

Her kisses taste sweeter than he remembers.

The first real kiss happens after a month. Their sleep habits are slowly shifting, half in the light and half in the dark. The sun sees that first kiss - it's setting as they wake up, Emma's head tucked just under Killian's arm, arm wrapped around him possessively in sleep. He's loathe to rouse her or leave her, but nature's call is slightly stronger than his lovely Swan. He slips from her grasp, chuckling to himself at her sleepy grumbles as she pillages his pillow instead.

She's awake when he returns, brows knitted as she frowns her way through remaining conscious. "You were gone," she mumbles as he slides back into bed next to her.

"Privy called," he says, laying next to her and gathering her close.

"TMI," she tells him, then she has the gall to giggle when he frowns - that's not one Henry's taught him yet.

Then she's kissing him, soft and sweet, and he feels like the world has righted itself a little more. They linger, lips teasing with soft nibbles and quick caresses that slowly build heat in his belly, until she finally - regretfully - pulls away. She's smiling though, with a look in her eyes that looks a lot like lust as she slips out of the bed and goes to prepare for the day.

Wake-up kisses turn into pre-sleep kisses, which turn into good mornings and good nights as they continue their slide back into normal hours. Their repertoire expands into lunchtime kisses, evening strolls holding hands, falling asleep on one another, affectionate touches over breakfast.

Conversations become longer. They talk about work, about their friends and their family, they tease one another. _Belle thinks it's about time I can do the job on me own once or twice a week. That's great, Killian. Figured out the magic box, even. It's called a computer. Ridiculous name, love._

One step at a time, the cold house becomes a warm home.

Henry helps there, coming over after that first month and staying for a few weeks. Teenage boys leave clutter everywhere they go and the house looks properly lived in after only three days. There's schoolbooks on the kitchen table and video games in the living room, shoes kicked off with haste near the door and colorful cereal boxes on the counter. Photographs begin popping up on the writing desk and over the mantle, hung on the walls; small vases of flowers appear on small tables, bringing color and personality to a house suffering from a lack of love.

There are smiles and laughter filling the house that is becoming a home.

When Henry goes back to Regina's - they're working out a schedule - the house feels emptier without him, but the light remains. Emma's humming as she makes dinner, her hair pulled up and out of the way in a ponytail that's mesmerising to watch bounce this way and that. There's a smile just for him when they eat, a smile that breaks every last bit of willpower he has against her.

The dishes get left unwashed in the sink.

They're in the middle of cleanup when he envelops her from behind, when he nuzzles the crook of her neck and her breath hitches; she makes that little sound he loves so much, a tiny cry as she loses herself in the pureness of _feeling_. His lips brush against her silky skin, up the long column of her neck to her ear where she giggles and jolts away because his scruff and his warm breath on her skin tickles. He chases her, nibbling at her earlobe before whispering, "I miss you, Emma."

She turns in his arms, her eyes wide and sincere, searching his for a long moment before she whispers, "I've missed you too."

They meet in the middle, pouring their worries and frustrations and anger into frantic kisses that might leave them bruised and swollen in the morning, but he's fairly certain neither of them will care. He bites, she nips back. She pulls at his hair, he squeezes her arse. She feels good under his hand, lithe body writhing against his and bringing him to life, but the clothes are a problem.

She notices, breathing her command against his lips, the words as tantalizing as the brush of her skin on his.

"Take me to bed, Killian."

He sweeps her off her feet without another word, carrying her bridal-style up to their bedroom the way it should have been that first night in their new home. Emma's arms are around his neck, her face glowing with happiness as they cross the threshold. He lays her on the bed almost reverently, covering her body with his and kissing her soundly. He grinds his hips into hers, swallowing her mewl when he sweeps his tongue into her mouth. "Killian," Emma gasps when they come up for air. "Clothes off."

He grins. "Aye, my love."

He's about to roll off her and divest her of her shirt when white smoke engulfs them both, leaving them bare when it clears. Killian raises an eyebrow at Emma, who grins and thrusts her hips up. "Faster this way. Kiss me," she commands. "All over."

"As my lady wishes," he says with a grin.

He makes her giggle, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose, the apples of her cheeks. She squirms under him as he nips and nuzzles her jaw, her ears, her neck.

He doesn't think he's been this hard in his life, not even as a cabin boy first discovering the fairer sex. The sounds she makes, the way she's moving under him - he fears he won't last long when they arrive at the main event. He thrusts his hips against hers, his cock gathering the barest wetness from her folds and making them both moan with longing. "Wet for me already, darling?" Killian murmurs against her collarbones.

"Yes," Emma sighs, closing her eyes as he kisses his way down her chest.

"I'm going to make you scream," he promises, pausing for a moment to circle a nipple with his tongue. "You're going to scream for me and tomorrow you won't be able to move without remembering how thoroughly you've been fucked. Would you like that?"

"Please," she challenges, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

His hand comes up to roll one nipple between his fingers while his mouth closes over the other. Emma chokes back a gasp, arching her back. He lightly drags his teeth over the sensitive bud before sucking hard, making her cry out. He grins to himself, releasing her and pressing a kiss to her skin.

He repeats the same action with the other breast, but he's sure she was expecting it because she doesn't give him nearly the same reaction. He looks up as he presses his tongue flat against her nipple - she's flushed, grinning with one eyebrow raised as if asking him if that's all he's got.

Well, he always did love a challenge.

Killian leaves wet kisses on his way across and down her stomach, watching gooseflesh ripple across her skin, the way her taut muscles twitch just from the way he blows air over the sloppy trail he's left. He gently drags his teeth over her bare mound, watching her writhe from the sensation - had she been anticipating this? Had she been hoping they'd finally be able to cross that final barrier that kept them apart for so long? They still have so much to discuss, so many things left unsaid in the last two months.

But maybe they need this. This physical reassurance of their affections - of their _love_ \- before cutting to the emotional core of what had happened to them.

One step at a time.

He nudges her legs apart wider, parting her folds with his fingers before licking her back to front. Emma practically bows off the bed, gasping - he grins to himself: it's not quite the scream he wanted, but it'll come. And so will she. He circles her clit with his tongue, her soft whimpers music to his ears. "Killian…"

His fingers, just two, tease her entrance before sliding in and her hips rise to meet the thrusts. She reaches for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as her breathing comes quicker, shorter. Killian wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, crooking his fingers inside her as he feels her shatter around them, a scream tearing from her throat and her fingers tightening their grip in his hair. He eases her down, waits until her breathing slows again before pulling his fingers from her wet heat. "Emma," he says, his voice low and raspy.

Her eyes flutter open and then widen as she watches him lick his fingers clean.

He crawls back up her body, catching her lips with his, humming as she licks at his lips. "Like that?" he asks.

"I like you," she says.

"I like you too," Killian replies, rolling his hips into hers to prove just how _much_ he likes her. He drops his forehead against hers. "I don't know how long I can last, love. Where did you hide those condom things?"

Emma nudges his nose with hers. "It's okay," she whispers.

He jerks back, his eyes searching hers carefully. "Emma, are you quite alright?"

They'd had a _very_ long talk about such things several months ago. How important it was that she not fall pregnant or they fall ill - he understood those things. She had been quite adamant that they weren't coupling without such things for a very long time and now she's changed her mind?

Her smile falters and he can read the fear in her eyes. "No, I just - I thought we - I trust you, Killian," she says finally. "I love you. I trust that… that after everything you'd stay."

"If you…"

"I have an IUD," she says, as if that should make any sense at all, "so if I _did_ get pregnant we'd have both a child - _our_ child - and a pretty nice settlement to send them and Henry to college with." He can tell she's making a joke, but to be perfectly honest his heart had stuttered over the words _our child_ and the rest hadn't made sense. She continues, "But it's okay. Because I love you. And our future is _now_. And I want every part of that future with you."

"Emma," Killian breathes, dropping his head against hers again, nuzzling her nose with his.

"Killian," she says, her voice light and teasing. "I think you made me a promise."

He covers her mouth with his, shifting his hips to line up with hers. "I don't want to _fuck_ you, my love," he murmurs against her mouth. She bends her knees and he can feel her, hot and slick against his cock. Gods, he truly isn't going to last long. "I want to make love to you."

Sliding into her is like a dream - _better_ than a dream. Her eyes close, she bites her lip in the most delicious way. Gods, she is _wet_ for him, her soft walls hot and rippling as she welcomes him in and he bottoms out. "Fuck," he chokes out.

"Move," she orders, her voice just as broken.

Emma clings to him, her legs coming up and around his waist, her heels digging into his arse as he begins to thrust. Her arms wrap around his neck, bringing him down to kiss her. He can only manage a brief kiss before he presses his face into her neck, arms sliding under her for better leverage. It's entirely too much, her hips meeting his, the delicious stretch of her body around his. He feels his entire body start to tighten as his orgasm builds, but he wants one more out of her; he wants her to fall with him. "Close," he bites out.

He leans back, giving her room to snake her hand between them. He looks down, watching his cock disappear into her welcoming heat as she rubs her clit. He looks up in time to watch her mouth fall open with a wordless cry, her walls squeezing him as she comes, and it's a beautiful sight to see her in such pleasure. He thrusts into her just three more times before he comes, his body tensing as he spills himself in her.

Killian manages not to collapse on top of her, falling just to her side as they both come down from their high. The only sound in the room is their breathing, heavy at first and then slowing. "I need to clean up," Emma says finally, pressing a hand to her forehead. "But I think you turned my legs into jelly."

He laughs and sits up. Emma watches him as he climbs over her out of the bed, then her eyes widen and she shrieks in surprise as he lifts her in his arms again and carries her to the bathroom. "There, no walking necessary," he tells her, setting her on the rim of the tub.

"I hate you."

"You love me," he counters as she stands on her own.

Her eyes soften and she smiles. "I do. Now shoo, let me clean up."

He's in bed when she returns - there's no point in doing anything else this evening and quite frankly he can't think of anything better to do than spend the rest of the night with her, naked, in their bed. She slips under the covers, nestling herself in the crook of his arm. "We have a lot to talk about," she says quietly.

"Aye."

"And most of it isn't good."

"Aye," he says, then shifts a little, looking down at her. "But I love you, Emma. And we've been through hell, quite literally. I think we can manage to have a civil discussion on how to proceed from here."

She smiles and leans up to kiss him. "Yeah, I think we can."

"First topic," he says when she settles against him again. "Are we never using the condoms again? Because quite frankly I am entirely in favor."

Emma laughs and lightly smacks his stomach. "For now. We'll revisit the issue later."

Killian chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. They'd have to - he and Henry hadn't intended this house to just be for the three of them, after all.


	26. 5.10 Canon Divergence/Missing Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were either gonna do the do in the forest or that flower field, so I tossed a coin and wrote the flower field.

This isn’t the first time he’s rutted her into these flowers.

It’s carnal. Some part of her knows it’s the newness, the darkness pulling at every fiber of his being. It’s wild, untamed magic that makes him manic, makes their clothes vanish in red smoke, makes him leave imprints of his teeth in her skin.

She felt it too, felt the urge to _have take possess_  when the Darkness tried to have her kill Merida.

He has her on her knees, grass stains on her skin and flower petals in her nose. He’s set a brutal pace, hand and hook on her hips, gripping her hard enough to bruise. It makes her feel  _alive_ , makes her want to weep because it means that  _he’s_  alive. The thick drag of him inside her makes her toes curl, makes her rip clumps of grass out of the ground, makes a scream lodge itself in her throat as she comes.

This isn’t the first time she’s come tonight.

“Now, now, Swan, what did we say about silencing ourselves?” he grunts.

She can’t even speak, too overcome by feeling to form words.

He takes her in ways she’d never imagined, legs twisted this way and that, hands and teeth and nails and pure  _sex_  driving her wild with need. She knows it’s the magic, the wild, untamed  _thing_ giving them both the stamina to outlast each other until the end of eternity. She’s felt him come deep inside her, feels him slow each time he does to relish the feeling, feels the stickiness on her thighs as he flips them around to try something else.

They’re possessed by Darkness, she realizes as she rides him later, much later -- has it been hours or days since they last saw anyone of importance? Dark Ones can’t be hurt, can’t get sick, can’t be bothered to stop fucking long enough to pay attention to mortal things like the passage of time.

They’re possessed.

She slows her pace, undulating her hips slower and slower as she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. She can see it in his eyes, the tired drag of Darkness hidden just out of sight, stayed by their endless lovemaking. They’re darker, his eyes, shades darker than the normal cobalt. She wonders how she’s changed, hasn’t bothered to find a mirror or a pond to check her reflection.

They’re possessed.

He kisses her roughly, a groan tearing from his lips as she picks up the pace again. Heat flares in her belly, her breasts, magic crackling between them as they strive for another climax. They peak together, their cries filling the otherwise silent night, with only the middlemist flowers to hear them.

Whether they’re possessed by Darkness or each other, she finds that as he shoves her onto her back and lifts her leg over his shoulder she can’t be damned to care.


	27. Christmas in Korea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! This takes place in the same universe as "Red-Eye to Incheon", an AU where Emma and Killian are ESL teachers in South Korea. You don't need to have read it first, this is just a little smutty addition to the story (which I do want to write more of, I just.... have all the things to write)

Working on Christmas Eve had been bad enough, but staying even later for some sham of a workplace Christmas party took the cake. It would be different if they all didn't practically live in each other's pockets, but they did and now she was just going to be late to Killian’s.

Emma cursed up a storm as she finished packing her suitcase and got changed, the clock on the wall ticking closer and closer to midnight. They had to catch a 5:45 train to get to Incheon by 7:30 to check in for their 9:35 flight to Tokyo. Their original plan to sleep for a few hours at Killian’s would be cut short, and that _would_ be something to be upset about... except Emma never planned on doing much in the way of sleeping.

At a quarter to midnight, Emma slung her backpack over her shoulders and lugged her suitcase down the stairs and down the street to the taxi stand. She tried not to cause a scene in her heels and tightly-zipped-and-belted coat, but there were a couple of stares from the few people out at this hour on Christmas Eve. Probably on their way to church and Emma didn’t really want to imagine the extent of what they might think about her.

_Look at the American, isn't she strange?_ would be the tamest thought.

She waited for the taxi driver to open the trunk before tossing her bags inside, then carefully slid into the backseat. The paper with Killian’s address on it had torn and crinkled edges from where she’d fiddled with it in her pocket. The taxi driver seemed to be able to read it fine anyway and Emma tried to control her mild case of nerves on the five minute drive. _It’s just Killian_ , she told herself, watching the neon lights flash by outside. This was just their first Christmas as a couple, it wasn’t anything to be _nervous_ about. She just -- she just wanted it to be something they remembered.

Even if a good chunk of the morning would be dedicated to international travel and all of the headaches it encompassed.

Killian’s building was newer and had an elevator, which made the prospect of taking her things inside in heels much less intimidating. The last thing she wanted was to ruin the surprise by calling him down to help her. She paid the driver before getting out; he honked after she removed her bags and slammed the trunk shut, leaving Emma with just her bags and her pounding heart for company.

The ride up was quick, the walk to his door quicker. She tried not to tap her toes as she waited for him to answer the buzzer. _See, this is why you hate surprises_ , she told herself. _You get anxious not only about receiving them but also getting them_ . The door swinging open startled her out of her thoughts, her grinning boyfriend on the other side an instant balm on her nerves. “Swan, it's not _that_ cold in Japan,” Killian said, raising an eyebrow at her coat as he let her in.

She just smiled, hoping her face didn’t give anything away. Just her luck, he’d use his ability to read her like a freaking book just when she least wanted him to. She dragged her suitcase through the entryway and tucked it under the stairs next to his, settling her backpack next to it. She heard the door click shut behind him as she started undoing the belt on her coat. “And heels?” he asked. “Sweetheart, did you even change after work -- no, did you _work_ in those shoes?”

Emma unzipped the coat, taking a deep breath to shake out the last of her anxiety and putting on her game face. Still keeping the coat closed around her, she turned to look at him. He blinked, taking in the smirk on her very red lips -- she’d worn neither the heels nor the lipstick to work, thank you very much. “Pennsy,” she said, lowering her voice teasingly as she took a step closer to him. “Focus on the important things.”

She watched as his eyes darkened, really drinking in the sight of her shapely legs in the heels, her artfully messed up curls, and the red lipstick for the first time. He licked his own lips just slightly, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth in that way he knew drove her crazy. “Such as?” he asked, his own voice a little hoarse.

Emma opened her coat and let it drop to the floor. A thrill shot up her spine as Killian’s mouth dropped open, his eyes raking down her body. She wasn’t wearing much, just a red, semi-sheer dress lined with white feathers. The skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs, revealing a garter belt holding up her sheer stockings. A black belt completed the look. “Merry Christmas, Killian,” she said softly, closing the gap between them and running her fingers up his chest.

She could feel his heart thrumming, watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Oh, love, there’s no possible way I was good enough to have you as a present,” he murmured, his hands moving to grip her hips as he rested his forehead against hers. His breath was shaky, she could feel his hands trembling. “You are so -- _fucking_ hot like this, Emma, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen --”

“This isn’t all of it,” she whispered before pressing her lips against his. He opened to her almost immediately, growling as her tongue swept into his mouth. It was only a tease for what’s to come and she pulled away after only a moment. He chased her, his eyes half-closed and hungry, but she stepped back. “Patience,” she teased.

She went back to her suitcase, unzipping the front pocket and definitely bending over more than necessary to find her other surprise. She smiled when she heard his appreciative groan; her crotchless panties could be seen clearly under her skirt. Finding her prize, she turned with a bit of flair, holding it up coyly for him to see. His brow furrowed a little. “Swan, is that -- is that what I think it is?” he asked.

Emma bit her lip as she grinned. Her little gift required a bit more voyeurism than she was normally comfortable with, but there was something _specifically_ about the thought of this with Killian -- _for_ him, really -- that turned her on. “If you think it’s a dildo shaped like a candy cane, then you’re absolutely correct,” she said. “I’m going to give you a little show.”

She heard his shuddering exhale a moment before he crossed the entryway to her in two strides, cupping her face in his hands and bringing their lips together in such a way that she wanted to melt straight onto the floor. Her knees wobbled when he dragged his teeth against her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and sending a jolt of pure want straight to her clit; he groaned when she slipped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together. She could feel him, thick and hard, under his clothes. He ground his hips down against hers. “Want you,” he mumbled against her lips, his accent that perfect thickness that told her just how much he wanted her. “Want you so bloody much, you perfect _minx_ \--”

“Show first, sex later,” she whispered, nipping at his top lip for good measure.

“Please tell me I can unwrap my present first,” he said.

The pleading note in his request --  and the underlying thread of desperate need -- had her nodding as he sank to his knees in front of her. His hands drifted down slower, stroking every inch of her body they could reach. Even through her dress she could feel their warmth, the delicate, teasing pressure that was just enough to set her clit throbbing with need. She could feel her own dampness on her thighs; despite her insistence that she give him a show first, she held a secret hope that he’d try to have his wicked way with her first.

Killian rested his head on her stomach, his nose pressing against her mound; she wondered if he could smell her arousal. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands finally reaching her hips.

He nosed his way under her skirt, his mouth latching onto what bare skin he could find. Emma closed her eyes, letting her head fall back at the sensation -- letting herself just _feel._ She felt his hands slide down her thighs, gripping the hem of her dress and pushing it up and out of the way. She felt his mouth _everywhere_ , sucking marks onto her thighs above her stockings. She reached down with her free hand, threading her fingers through his hair -- a little because she felt a bit unsteady from the combination of heels and foreplay, but mostly because she really didn’t want him to stop.

One of his hands left its post; she felt the material of her skirt brush her thigh briefly before she sucked in a breath. Her toes curled in her heels as he dragged a finger along her exposed slit, nerve endings firing on all cylinders as he doubled back and slipped it between her folds. Her legs shook -- _damn him_ , he was hardly touching her -- as his rough fingers circled her clit before sliding further back and finding her aching entrance. “Killian --” Emma said, but her voice faltered as he teased her, only sliding the tip of one finger inside of her.

“I’m unwrapping my present,” he said, his voice suspiciously mild for how much she knew this turned him on, “and I’m also playing with it. That’s what one does with their Christmas presents, yes? Plays with them?”

Emma almost growled, but she settled for tightening her grip on his hair instead. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle; she could feel his breath against her damp skin. “I’m hardly unwrapped,” she said, knowing it sounded lame and not particularly caring. “But if you’re going to play, _play faster_.”

She gasped, mouth dropping open as he shoved his fingers inside of her. She spread her legs a little further apart for him, giving him better access, and her clever boy got the hint immediately. He ducked his head between her legs, his tongue darting out and tasting her slit with an appreciative moan. “Love the way you taste,” he said, muffled against her flesh. “Love your scent, love how fucking wet you are for me.”

His other hand slid down her thigh, cupping the back of her knee and bringing her leg up and over his shoulder. Emma wobbled again but his hand came up again to rest on her ass, holding her in place. His tongue and his fingers worked in tandem to tip her closer and closer to that edge.

Killian could eat her out the way a musician could play their instrument: methodically, professionally, and always to a stirring conclusion.

She loved the way his tongue pressed against her clit. She loved the little sounds he made as he tasted her, clearly getting off on the act of eating her as much as she did. She loved the way his fingers scissored inside her, the way he stroked her walls to find her spot -- it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as his cock, but unfortunately his cock and his mouth pleasuring her at the same time wasn’t possible. The thought -- well, the thought of having _two_ of him to get the job done -- had her walls clenching around his fingers. “Good girl,” Killian murmured. “Love the way you squeeze me, you’re going to come aren’t you?”

Emma nodded, her “uh-huh” breathy as she rocked her hips against his face, not caring how wanton it made her look. He chuckled again and went at it with renewed vigor, sucking her clit into his mouth briefly before running his tongue around it soothingly. She mewled when his fingers found her spot. “There -- there, oh God, Killian, right --”

He withdrew his fingers quickly and she whined in protest -- until he licked her clean from back to front, his tongue finding her entrance and plunging in. He fucked her with his tongue as his fingers found her clit, rolling the aching bud between them, squeezing just so --

Emma cried out as she came, riding his face as he eased her down from her high. He withdrew as she went still, her limbs feeling like jelly and her breathing shaky. Killian’s smug grin made her giggle; he got to his feet as he licked his fingers clean, then kissed her again. She tasted herself on his tongue, her juices smeared all over his mouth and beard.

She squealed when he bent suddenly, quite literally sweeping her off her feet and hefting her easily into his arms. “Pennsy --”

“Boston, allow me to carry my lady to the bedroom,” he said, trying to be gallant but it contrasted sharply with the way he looked at her like he wanted nothing more than to chain her to the bed and fuck her until they couldn’t move.

Which, honestly, didn’t sound like that bad of an option.

Emma clung to him as he carried her up the narrow steps; his loft was a little better put-together than hers, but the precarious stairs still made her nervous. He set her down at the top, letting her walk to the bed; the height of the loft was such that had to crouch a bit to keep from banging his head on the ceiling. Emma started to remove her shoes, still planning on her little show, but Killian stopped her. “Dress off, panties off, but the shoes and the stockings stay on,” he said, settling in the little chair he kept there.

She smiled wryly. “Demanding, aren’t we?”

He grinned outright. “My present, isn’t it?”

She stripped out of her dress and panties, probably a little faster than he intended but oh well. He laughed when she dropped the garments on his head; by the time he had it off, she was arranging herself on the bed. She stacked his pillows under her head and upper body so she could watch his reaction, settling against them with a sigh. Emma bent her legs and spread them, her heels planted on the edge of the bed. “Ready?” she asked, resting one hand across her breasts as she gripped her glass dildo with the other.

Killian stared, his expression an interesting mix of desire, awe, and pure affection for her. She liked it -- the way he looked at her had scared her, once, back at the beginning of this relationship of theirs. But she’d learned to accept it, and then to love it; Killian wasn’t someone who loved by half-measures. If he looked at her like she hung the damn moon and scattered the stars across the sky, then it was because he genuinely thought the best of her.

It was nice to have someone believe so much in her, to think so highly of her. Someone who loved her that much.

“I love you,” she murmured, locking eyes with him as she took the dildo and dragged it through her wet folds.

“And I you, my beautiful Swan,” he said, his own grin softening his expression further.

She got to work on her task. The dildo was surprisingly cool despite her grip on it, making her breath quicken as the sensation hit then faded. She rubbed it alongside her clit, coating the glass in her essence. She was nice and relaxed from Killian’s thorough playtime, but everything helped. After another minute she positioned the rounded tip at her entrance and slid it home slowly, inch by inch. She moaned, her eyes sliding shut as her hips rocked slightly at the sensation; it was smoother than the delicious drag of his cock, definitely cooler, but it stretched her all the same. The curved end was a good handle, letting her pull out and thrust back in faster. “Oh, God that’s good,” she whispered, angling the toy to hit her sensitive spot.

She heard him fumbling with his pants, the sound of his zipper lowering and then the satisfied grunt as she assumed he freed his cock. She opened her eyes, wanting to watch him stroke himself as he watched her. He matched his strokes with her thrusts, his eyes never leaving her body. Even from here, with the dim lighting, she could see that his eyes were dark, his arousal very apparent as he swept his thumb over the tip of his cock. He paused occasionally to lick his palm before gripping himself again. His face scrunched up a little, a sign she knew well that he was close. “Emma -- sweetheart, I need --”

Emma brushed her free hand over her pert nipples, sighing happily at the zip of desire it sent down to her clit. She needed him too -- the dildo was fine, but it wasn’t him. “What do you need?” she asked, looking at him from under her eyelashes in a way she knew drove him nuts.

“You,” he bit out. “I need you, please. Let me have you, love, I’ll make it so good, _so_ good for you --”

Emma pulled her toy out, dropping it off to the side to be cleaned later. She beckoned to him with what she hoped was a sultry look and a crook of her finger. Killian swore, lurching to his feet and dropping his pants in the same moment. He kicked his pants off, stripping off his shirt in the next breath, and practically falling on top of her in the third. He groped for the drawer in his nightstand as he kissed everywhere on her body that he could reach: her lips, her cheeks, her nose, her neck.

He pulled his arm back with triumph, a condom in hand. Killian backed away for a moment, ripping open the foil and rolling the condom over his cock. “Tell me you need me,” he said, settling between her thighs.

“I need you,” Emma said, relishing his weight on top of her.

“Where?”

“I need you inside me.”

This time she heard amusement in his voice. “Why?”

She wanted to growl and push him off her, roll him onto his back and just get it over with herself, but this wasn’t her present to receive. _Cocky bastard_ , she thought as she said, “Because I need your cock to _fuck_ me, Jones, _Jesus_ would you just get --”

The rest of her reply was cut off as he positioned himself at her entrance and slid home. Emma moaned, her arms wrapping around him as he bottomed out. Killian buried his face in her neck as he started to move, shallow thrusts as he tried to hold back his own orgasm. She loved the little sounds he made when he was this far gone, breathy moans and quiet grunting. “How close?” she asked, dragging her nails down his back with a feather-light touch.

She could only grin as his body responded so well to her touch. His back arched and bent into her touch the whole way down, his whine right in her ear. “Right bloody now if you keep that up,” he said.

“Touch me,” she told him, matching his thrusts with her own. “I want to come again, I want to feel all of you inside me when I come.”

“Oh fuck me,” Killian breathed.

His pressed searing kisses on her skin, biting and sucking his way down to her collarbones. He lavished attention on her neglected breasts, suckling one as his fingers rolled the other nipple. Emma arched into his touch, feeling her second orgasm building already. “More,” she commanded.

God but she loved him, loved how he knew her body, loved his fucking cock burying itself inside her again and again like it belonged there. She loved his wicked mouth on her nipples, his fingers kneading and squeezing her breasts, hell even the way his coarse chest hair felt as it brushed against her skin.

She loved _him_ . Him and all the things he could do to her -- all the things he _wanted_ to do to her.

Her orgasm crashed over her, stealing her breath and causing her to see stars. Her name was a prayer on his lips as her walls clamped down on his cock, that final push he needed to let go and fall after her into pure bliss.

It took a while to come down from their high. She didn’t want him to move, enjoying the feeling of him on top of her. Her fingers toyed with his hair at a languid pace, sated exhaustion tugging at her bones. She knew they needed _some_ rest before all their traveling, but in all honesty she would be content to just lay there with him for the next week. “Do we have to go to Japan?” she asked finally.

Killian chuckled, pressing a kiss against the side of her breast. “Well, we spent the money already, and I think Liam might be a tad disappointed.” She sighed, her arm dropping to her side with more dramatic flair than necessary. Killian laughed this time, propping himself up to look at her. “Come, love, I met your mother. Liam’s already jealous he didn’t get to do the meet-and-greet first.”

Emma lifted her head enough to kiss him. “Fine. But we’re going without showering first. Spread the sex pheromones everywhere.”

He slipped out of her with a wince and got to his feet. “Let’s clean up just a bit first and then we can infect the whole bloody airport with our pheromones.”

Emma took off the rest of her clothes as he went down first. It was a quick cleanup and shutting off all the lights, and then back up to the bed. She slid under the covers first while he set an alarm. She sighed with content as Killian settled under the blanket next to her, his arm draped around her protectively. “Did you like your present?” she asked, punctuating it with a yawn.

He tilted her head slightly so he could kiss her. “I _loved_ my present,” he told her. “I love you, Emma.”

She grinned, settling back against him as much as she could. “I love you too, Killian. Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, darling. To many, many more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is absolutely a glass dildo shaped like a candy cane. It's hilarious and amazing all at once, of course I had to write something including it.


	28. Good Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted one with Killian using Emma's vibrator on her.

Her hands grasped at the sheets, at the pillow, the headboard, anything solid to ground her. His tongue circled her nipple, blowing cool air over her skin and watching her skin pebble and tighten. “What a cunning device,” he murmured, thumbing the button that bumped up the setting and thrusting the vibrator deeper inside her.

Emma’s toes curled at the sensation, her body bowing off the bed a little as she tensed. “Good -- description,” she bit out, fingers tightening around the rungs of the headboard.

He pumped it slowly, catching on quickly to the spots that affected her most -- she’s more sensitive after one orgasm (one _mind-blowing_ orgasm; he might think the vibe is a cunning device but _good lord_ the man knows what to do with his tongue) but this next one might do her in.

Which would be a shame. She’d been angling to be properly fucked tonight -- fucked good and hard -- but teased and tormented half to death with her toys and his tongue would have to do.

He teased her, teeth scraping on skin, tonguing her ticklish spots. He’d move slowly, never giving her enough stimulation to actually come, never pressing down and making her feel it. Once, she felt his cock bobbing against her skin, leaving streaks of precum on her skin; she licked her lips, aching to taste, desperate to feel him _somehow_ if he wasn’t planning on fucking her tonight.

Laving attention on her breasts, worrying red marks onto her skin, sucking on her pulse point -- he was relentless, hitting everywhere he knew could set her off but never _setting_ her off. God, she was close, so close, her nerves singing, that bright spot of bliss just out of reach...

Then he removed it, pulled her vibrator right out and left her dangling on the edge, leaving her skin buzzing and her blood thrumming and her sex tingling and she might just kill him if he didn’t let her come. “Killian --”

“Up you get,” he told her, tapping her hip with the still-active vibrator and leaving a streak of her wetness on her skin. Emma jumped a little at the contact, still sensitive. “On your knees, pet.”

Emma rolled over, feeling sluggish and heavy as her body remembered it was supposed to do other things besides be ravished by a pirate. She jumped again, this time when he smacked her ass lightly with the vibe, a moan slipping out of her even as she glared at him over her shoulder. He grinned like the cat that ate the fucking canary, kneeling between her spread legs. “You look thoroughly debauched.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll look more debauched if you let me fucking _come_ already,” she grumbled, sliding her knees in and lifting herself up.

She felt his cock press against the crease of her ass, then he moaned; she looked back to see him with his cock in hand, still holding the vibrator -- pressed up against him like that, she wondered how that felt for him. “Having fun there, sailor?” she asked.

“Gods above, Swan,” he said through gritted teeth, moving his hand. She felt the tip of his cock slide through her slick, swollen folds. “Are there such devices for men in this realm as well?”

Emma sucked in a breath as he slid home, filling her slowly and stretching her the way she’d wanted earlier. “Kinda,” she said, her words coming out in short bursts as he began to thrust. “We can -- talk about that later -- _fuck_ , harder -- just like that --”

She let her forehead drop against the bed, hands balled into fists in the sheets as his hips pistoned into hers. She was vaguely aware of words somewhere behind her, above her -- _so perfect, so hot and wet, love the way you squeeze me, love your sweet quim, this tight body_ \-- but truthfully she was just glad his cock was in her, slamming into her the way she needed. She felt so good like this, so perfectly used and needed, she forgot about anything else than the long, thick drag of his cock inside of her.

She’d forgotten about the vibrator.

She tensed up the moment she felt it near her clit. “Killian --”

The bastard seemed to have some innate knowledge of how to use the damn thing, how to manipulate her body so perfectly -- sliding it up and around her clit, pressing down along side it and rubbing.

It was almost too much.

She felt it in her toes first -- a tingling sensation, electricity making her toes curl and then her legs tense and then her ass was pressing back into his pelvis and then finally, _finally_ she was coming, white hot bliss exploding behind her eyes as she screamed. She felt him fucking her through it, her sex squeezing him and drawing out the waves of pleasure from the combination of flesh and the plastic slowly moving away from her clit.

She must have blacked out for a moment because she didn’t even feel him come, just her legs spasming and unable -- unwilling -- to move from where she knelt. There were lips pressing kisses up her spine and a gentle hand helping her relax her body, unbend her legs and allow her to sprawl out on the sheets. She couldn’t even open her eyes, the aftershocks of pleasure keeping her in a blissed out state -- she couldn’t say she minded much. She felt the bed dip, heard running water briefly in the bathroom, then he was back, gently cleaning up their combined mess between her legs.

Emma jumped a little when he touched her back, heard him chuckle as he gently ran his fingers across her skin. “Alright, Swan?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, thanks,” she mumbled. She was, really. She couldn’t even feel her legs right now -- God knows when the last time _that_ had happened. “Sleep now, talk later.”

“As you wish,” Killian murmured, kissing the top of her head.

She felt blankets being draped over her, then his hand was back, a possessive shield across her body. _Not bad_ , she thought sleepily. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered how enthusiastically he’d react to some of her _other_ toys.


	29. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling a bit IRL, so this one is short and very selfishly for me. Everyone's told me it's smutty, so popping it here. :)

There’s something about her wearing his clothes that drives him mad with need.

She’s seduced him while wearing just his coat -- the long leather duster _and_ the short jacket from the land without magic. Sometimes she sleeps in his shirts, completely without ulterior motives, but morning comes and he can’t resist her siren’s call that drives him to have her come with it. There’s just something about how everything dwarfs her, envelops her completely, that warms his blood. Or perhaps it’s that she’s surrounding herself with him as if it’s an acceptable comfort against their temporary separation.

Or perhaps it’s baser, that she covers some of her more tantalizing assets while leaving so much of that glorious pale skin on display. The deep cuts in his shirts leave her breasts mostly covered while teasing him with their soft curves, the hems of his sleeves hiding her hands and the fabric of the torso flirting with covering her bottom. His jacket also keeps her chest hidden from view, but leaves nothing else to the imagination -- his brazen Swan wandering about the house with her pert arse on full display, her bare mound daring him to spread her out on the kitchen table and feast upon her.

Which he’d done, several times, to her immense and enthusiastic satisfaction.

But perhaps most of all he loves when she wears his jewelry.

She hasn’t removed Liam’s ring from around her neck. Sometimes during their quieter evenings she’ll fiddle with his rings, trying them on her fingers and giggling when they inevitably slip upside down, all of them too large for her small, yet capable, hands. And sometimes she pilfers his pirate’s luck from around his neck and resettles it around her own.

His pirate queen.

The charms sit perfectly in the valley of her breasts, the ring hanging lower and closer to her navel. There’s a mesmerising sway when she sits astride him -- a tantalizing combination of hair and breasts and jewelry, one he has to tear his gaze away from to watch her face alight with pleasure.

When he has her on her back, they rest against her chest like they belong there, the little sword pointing to his favorite freckle on the side of her breast, the chain coiling up around her heart. And perhaps they do. Emma wears tokens as reminders, perhaps wearing his jewelry is another reminder of how much she loves him.

But she says she likes it on him better. She says it with a glint in her eyes, a glint he knows well and he’s _very_ fond of. She says it as she curls her hand around his necklace and pulls him down to her, meeting him halfway with a bruising kiss.

And he has to say, he likes it both ways too.


	30. Bloodhound (continuation of 19)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More menstrual sex, because it's a highly underutilized trope and tbh I like writing it. This time with more face-riding and blowjobs!
> 
> **If you're squicked by this trope, feel free not to read it.**

She pounces on him the second he gets home.

“ _Fuck_ , I love you,” Killian groans, his hand sliding through her hair as she peels him out of his jeans.

She hasn’t even let him get past the front door, kneeling in front of him as she tosses shoes, jeans, and boxers to the side. “You love this time of the month,” she counters, taking his cock in hand and pumping slowly. She’s been daydreaming about sucking him off all day: practically drooling at the thought of him crying out for her, of his hook digging a line into her perfectly unblemished front door, of pinning his hips down so he couldn’t fuck her mouth the way he usually did.

Emma Swan desperately wants to wreck her boyfriend and then have him return the favor.

“No, I love _you_ ,” Killian says, looking down at her with hooded eyes and a lazy grin as her tongue flicks out to taste the tip of his cock. “ _Fuck_ \-- love your mouth, love the way you --”

His words get swallowed up by a cry as she takes him all in, her nose brushing his wiry curls for a moment before she pulls back slowly. She traces the thick vein with her tongue, sighing as he winds her hair around his fist for a better grip. She teases the head with her lips, popping the ridge and savoring the sharp inhales above her. Emma idly grips the base of his shaft, squeezing and pumping slightly while her mouth works the head, swirling her tongue to taste the salt of his precum.

It takes all her willpower not to grin at the satisfying _thunk_ of his hook embedding itself in the door.

She picks up the pace, pressing his hips back against the door with her free hand when she feels him start to thrust. She hums a brief admonition, which makes him hiss and pull her hair a little harder.

This is doing nothing to ease the ache between her own thighs, but damn is the payoff going to be worth it.

“Emma,” Killian pants, her name punctuated with a whine as she hollows her cheeks and _sucks_ as she pulls back. “Bloody _fuck_ ,  _Emma_ \-- sweetheart, I’m -- _fuck_  --”

She releases him and settles her hand on his other hip, bracing herself and pinning him firmly against the door as she runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft. “Oh, yes you are,” she breathes before taking him in her mouth again.

She lets him have a little bit of control, his hand in her hair pulling or pushing her head on his cock as he brokenly whispers praise to her. When he comes, his hips stutter in her hold as he voices a wordless cry, his seed hot as it coats her throat and she swallows it down. Emma sighs with content as the hand in her hair loosens and she can sit back. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, looking up at him coyly, observing.

He looks stupidly wrecked, bangs sticking to his forehead as he fights to breathe properly, eyes closed, his shirt collar askew and his shirttails hardly skimming the tops of his thighs.

Emma grins wickedly to herself, leaning forward and tracing her tongue along the line where his thigh meets his pelvis. Killian yelps, a startled laugh bubbling out. “Bloody hell, love, that tickles.”

She sits back, a satisfied smile on her face. “I know.”

She gets to her feet with a slight wince -- the wood floor is _not_ kind on her knees, they found that out a few weeks ago when things had gotten a little heated in the living room.

And dammit that thought train is _not_ helping to cool the fire in her veins right now.

Emma closes the space between her and Killian, walking her fingers up along the line of buttons on his shirt and along the exposed V of skin at the top. A slow grin spreads on her lips as she watches his Adam’s apple bob, as she hears his breathing quicken -- she loves his recovery time, how he never seems to tire of her, how it feels as if she has this wonderful sort of power over him. He’ll need a few minutes, sure, but she has some ideas about how to spend that time. “Wanna take this upstairs?” she breathes, standing on her tiptoes. Her lips brush his as she grips his collar, teasing a hungry growl from him as he surges forward.

It’s hard to focus on her magic when he’s doing that stupidly hot _thing_ with his tongue in her mouth. Her hands are in his hair and his leg nudges between hers and she’s grinding against his thigh like a fucking cat in heat. She’s turned on and his hand is squeezing her ass and if he keeps biting her lip like that she swears her skin is going to melt right off her _bones_ \--

She nips back and thinks longingly of their bed; everything feels tight for a moment as her magic swirls around them -- one thing Harry Potter got right about Apparating -- and drops them both on the bed with a bounce.

Killian is relentless, his hips grinding down against hers in a dirty roll as he pulls away from her lips to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. He sucks at her skin, alternating between little love bites and real bites. Emma whines, thrusting her hips up in response; the mild pressure helps a little, but she’s still burning up, still needs his mouth on her or his cock in her or _something_. “My beautiful Swan,” Killian murmurs, teasing the hem of her shirt up over her stomach. “So needy tonight. Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“You,” Emma says, breathless as he lightly drags his nails over her stomach. “I need you. Fuck, Killian, I just want to ride your face, _please_.”

He’d awakened something in her that first night. No one had ever gone down on her during that time of the month before, no one had ever wanted to or offered. Yet Killian had, and without any prompting at all and seemingly had the time of his life getting her off as many times as he could by eating her out.

Well, not that he neglected that any other time of the month, but her original point stands.

Killian grins down at her. “You clean, I’ll fetch us a towel?”

Emma closes the gap again, kissing him quick and dirty. “I love you.”

He pulls back to let her get up, shedding the rest of his clothes on his way to the closet. She ducks into the bathroom for a few minutes; happily, it’s near the end of the week so clean-up doesn’t take long. When she returns, Killian’s laid out on the bed and idly stroking his cock. “Hey,” Emma says, her voice light and teasing as she climbs up into the bed. He turns towards her, eyes dark and hooded as she reaches to move his hand out of the way. “That’s my job.”

“You were elsewhere,” he counters, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh as Emma’s fingers curl around his length.

She strokes him a few times, leaning down and pressing a couple of kisses against his chest before he pats her ass. “As much as I love your hands on me, darling, I do believe you had a request.”

Emma grins. He’s already laying on the towel, so it's just a matter of moving up and straddling his face. Emma sighs happily when she feels a warm puff of air on her core. She resettles her grip on the headboard as Killian wraps his arms around her thighs and pulls her down lower. "Hold on, sweetheart," he murmurs, just before he licks a long stripe up her slit.

Emma mostly hangs on for the ride, her head falling back as his tongue works its magic on her. She whimpers when his tongue teases her entrance, darting in before slipping up to tease her clit again. A tingling warmth spreads across her thighs, up her spine, making her feel relaxed from only the best kind of high. As wired as she's been all afternoon, she's happy just to feel loved, feel worshipped like this, in no rush at all to come just yet. "God, just like that," she bites out as he slips one finger, then two, inside of her, his tongue and lips working in tandem against her clit.

Her orgasm takes her suddenly, stealing her breath as she thrusts against his face. She can feel Killian chuckling beneath her -- bastard loves how quickly and how many times he can send her over the edge at this time of the month; she's pretty sure there's a belt somewhere around the house with all sorts of notches dug into it.

Killian builds her up again slowly, his fingers sliding in and out of her tight heat, sometimes switching up his tongue for his thumb in his continued assault on her clit. Emma's knuckles are white as she grips the headboard, her hips undulating almost all on their own as she gets lost in the pleasure of it all. Her next orgasm comes almost lazily, a slow string of curses hissed from between her lips as she grinds down on his thumb, her walls squeezing his fingers. "One more," Killian tells her. "One more for me, beautiful, then I want to feel you come on my cock."

The banked fire in her belly roars back to life at his words.

This one is all tongue and teeth, his hand on her ass and his fingers driving her crazy as he slides them along the sensitive split between her cheeks. She comes around his tongue this time, his nose pressed against her clit as he fucks her through it, and her legs feel like jelly as she drifts down from another high.

Emma feels stuck in place, her legs unwilling to move and her hands feeling fused to the headboard; she hardly notices as Killian slips out from underneath her. She jumps when she feels him come up behind her, his cock pressed against her ass. "Hello, love," he murmurs in her ear, his brace resting on her hip and his hand sliding up her side to cup one aching breast.

"I think I'm stuck," Emma whispers, making him laugh.

"I'll take it as a compliment," Killian says, then helps her relax and lay on her back.

"Towel," she reminds him.

"I know," he says softly, his tone indulgent as she lifts her hips for him to shift it under her.

God, it just feels so _right_ when he’s inside of her. They take it slow, just enjoying the feel of one another, in no hurry to finish. Emma giggles at one point, reaching up to wipe a missed streak of blood from his nose. Killian just rolls his eyes and thrusts hard once, grinning when she gasps. She thrusts her hips up against his in retaliation, fighting back a smile and failing spectacularly.

It dissolves into a bit of a wrestling match from there, each of them taking their turns on top as they roll about on the bed, play-fighting; Emma doesn’t remember the last time she laughed this much during sex, trying to pin him down and restraining him with her arms. His muscles strain from the effort -- she’s not holding back and he’s giving every bit as much in return -- relaxing for a moment only when she squeezes her muscles around his cock. “Cheating, Swan,” Killian admonishes with a gasp, rolling them over with some effort again.

“Pirate,” Emma counters.

He only grins and covers her body with his, picking up the pace. Emma tries to roll them over again, but he’s found her spot and suddenly she doesn’t care about anything else. She wraps her legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust until she’s seeing stars, her skin buzzing as white-hot pleasure courses through her. She feels Killian jerk against her, her name a prayer on his lips as he empties himself inside of her.

She likes the feel of him on top of her like this; she unwinds her legs slowly, content to keep him here in the cradle of her thighs as their breathing slows, their heart rates returning to normal. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails dragging lightly against his skin. “Feeling better?” Killian asks against her skin, pressing a kiss into the crook of her neck.

Emma sighs happily. “Yeah. Gimme an hour or so and we might be back here, though.”

He lifts himself up slightly, humming as he kisses her cheek. “You’ll hear no complaints from me, love.”


	31. Toys and Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for "CS + killian discovers porn and emma shows her his favourite (not only on the tv, hehe)?"
> 
> And one of the reviewers here asked for more toys, specifically some toys for men, so I combined the two. Lots of dirty talk and a bit of anal play.

Of all the things in her world that confuse him, porn is not one of them.

There were a few raised eyebrows that first day he’d stumbled across the dirtier side of the internet, but more out of intrigue than bewilderment. Emma had been the more flustered one in that conversation -- people can do whatever the hell they want, she could care less, but explaining the advances in sex work since his time was never anything she’d thought she’d have to do -- but Killian’s gentle teasing about her red cheeks had eventually forced her hand. She’d proven how  _ not  _ embarrassed by it she was by pulling out one of the few DVDs she owned, effectively shutting him up and, naturally, giving him plenty of ideas for later.

Which is how they’ve wound up spending most Thursday evenings going through her collection or renting pornos, drinking beer and critiquing techniques.

And, usually, seeing if they can improve upon those techniques later.

“See, at least with two guys and a girl there’s enough space for everyone,” Emma says, pointing towards the screen with her bottle. “How many guys can get it up twice if there’s one guy and two girls?”

“Swan, love, you’re not thinking outside of the box,” Killian says before taking a swig out of his own bottle. “Trust me, if everyone’s a willing participant, there’s plenty of pleasure to go around. You just have to get creative. And occasionally it’s quite preferable for one partner to sit it out, catch their breath, while everyone else keeps one another occupied.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “And just how many orgies have you been in, Captain, to know that?” she asks, her voice teasing.

He grins lopsided at her. “What happens in the pleasure dens of Maldonia remains there, love.”

She rakes her eyes down his body skeptically, wondering if it’s time she brought out some of the new toys she’d bought for him. At his inquiring look, she just smiles innocently and turns her attention back to the movie.

Later, when they’ve cleaned up and decided to head up to bed, Emma barely gets the bedroom door closed before Killian has her pressed up against it, his front molded to her back. His hips rut gently into her ass, his breath warm against her ear as he whispers, “My dirty Swan. My greedy, needy girl, fantasizing about two cocks to satisfy her. Would that be enough?” he asks, rolling his hips into hers for emphasis.

Emma swallows a moan, her blood thrumming through her veins. God, she loves it when he gets a little rough with her; she’s a live wire when he touches her like this, the littlest thing can set her off. “Maybe,” she whispers. “But maybe I don’t want to share.”

“Good.” Killian pulls away, spinning her around before pinning her against the door again. Emma whimpers, rutting against him in the vain hope of relieving some of the pressure between her legs. Her panties are already soaking through. He leans in close, his lips brushing against hers and making her  _ want _ . “Pirates don’t like to share,” he breathes.

His kiss is the catalyst, sending her insides aflame. He grinds his hips down against hers as he methodically devours her mouth; the seam of her jeans and the hard bulge in his pressing against her clit and _ fuck _ her skin feels like it’s going to melt right off her goddamn  _ bones _ .

Hands fumble at clothes, rips and tears in fabric ignored in favor of feeling his skin against hers at last. He’s so warm, the hair on his chest tickling her breasts, his muscles firm under her hands as she keeps him from picking her up and carrying her to their bed. “Wait,” she says, her eyelids feeling too heavy to open and her voice reduced to almost nothing. “Wait, I have -- I have a surprise for you.”

His chuckle is just as breathy before he kisses the tip of her nose and then her forehead. “By all means.”

Her limbs feel like jelly as she stumbles towards the closet. There, in a box tucked away from normal view, are the anal plugs and the cockring she bought several weeks ago. She's not sure how far Killian's willing to go this time, but she's hopeful that he's at least open to the idea for later.

"What's this, love?" he asks as she walks to the bed with her prizes. He's already stretched out on it, his left arm tucked up under his head while he idly strokes his cock.

Her legs are still trembling so Emma sits on the bed. "These are for you, if you want," she says, quickly explaining the function of both the ring and the black plug. The way his eyes darken send another thrill down her spine, straight to her clit. "And I was hoping -- I hoped we could use this one on me today."

Killian sits up, his eyes blazing with lust and sending Emma terribly close to saying fuck it all and just having her way with him now. (God, how does he do this to her? Every goddamn time, she has no willpower against him.) "So my greedy Swan does have a few fantasies," he murmurs, brushing his nose against hers.

"All the fun, but just the two of us," she whispers in agreement.

She loves him far too much to ever share herself with anyone else.

There's tissues on the bedside table and lube in the drawer. He lays her out on the bed, his nose in her curls and his breath hot on her center as she helps him coat his fingers in the lube. Emma forgets to breathe as he tongues her entrance, a tease of the delicious relief to come. Her toes curl as he licks her, lips occasionally circling her aching clit and she can feel him grin every time he makes her gasp or moan; she presses a hand to her forehead just for something to do with all the restless energy he's building inside her, and then her body goes stiff when his fingers slip down and back towards her ass.

He's gentle as he nudges her cheeks apart, massaging the thick muscle to help her relax. This is a different kind of pleasure, less intense than the way he's devouring her sex; she's only let a small handful of people play with her ass in the past, never trusting anyone not to hurt her, but Killian is nothing but patient and gentle. He slips one finger inside her and she seizes up involuntarily, squeezing his fingers in the back and his tongue in the front. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs with a chuckle. "Just let me take care of you."

Emma forces herself to relax after that, focusing on how he's making her feel instead of becoming apprehensive about what's to come.

His tongue works at her in intervals, fast and slow, building her up until she's ready to snap. She can feel her orgasm just out of reach as he dips his tongue into her dripping entrance again, a whine in her throat and a plea to just let her come already on the tip of her tongue, but then he slips another finger into her and she just bursts. She's not entirely sure there isn't electricity buzzing along her skin as she rides out her high, a kaleidoscope of colors blooming behind her eyelids and his name a prayer on her lips.

Killian pulls away from her, fingers and all, and she almost whines in complaint until she feels the slick end of the plug nudging her rear. Emma sighs with relief as he slides it home, the unfamiliar stretch making her feel full and not altogether unpleasant. "You're beautiful when you come," he murmurs.

She opens her eyes to see him rolling a tissue around his fingers, a smirk on his lips. She grins, the buzz still under her skin and an overwhelming urge to reciprocate giving her the energy to sit up.

The plug moves inside her and she bites her lip against the sensation. Killian frowns. "Love?"

"It's good," Emma says. "It's really good. Did you...?"

He glances at the plug and the ring meant for him. After a long moment, he nods. "Seems a shame to let all of this go to waste. Have me as you will."

She wants to say that they'll be around to use later, but she really doesn't want to argue semantics. Instead, she surges forward, catching his lips in a kiss and giggling as the force knocks them both backwards. "Roll over," she says when she sits back.

She's never done this before, only read about it, so she goes slowly. Making sure her fingers are good and slippery, she gently massages his ass cheeks with one hand while she tries to imitate what he did for her earlier. Killian's little moans and the slight way he ruts against the bed are encouraging. She worries when she slips her first finger inside, because he tenses up and sucks in a breath, but then he's exhaling and thrusting back against her hand. "Gods, Swan, don't stop."

Encouraged, she fucks him gently with her finger, working on opening him up to taking in two before twisting them inside him, searching... "Bloody  _ fuck, _ " Killian yelps, hips jutting against the bed in surprise.

Emma grins, gently massaging the hard bump she'd found. "Should I stop?"

" _ No _ ."

She laughs. She teases him a bit longer, enjoying the moans and the way he's practically squirming from her touch. After a few minutes, though, Killian props himself up on his elbows, glancing over his shoulder. "Love, as enjoyable as this is, I want to come inside you."

He looks wrecked already, his hair askew from where he'd buried his face in the quilt and his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Emma pulls her fingers away and grabs his plug, thoroughly coating it in lube before sliding it inside. Killian hisses at the sensation, a thousand expressions flitting over his face before he relaxes. “Bloody hell…”

“I know,” Emma murmurs, wiping her fingers off with another tissue.

He rolls over and allows her to stretch the cockring around his already thick length. She shivers as she sees it swell a little further. Emma’s more than ready to come again after watching him react to her playing with him.

He lets her ride him, both of their faces alight with pleasure as she finally sinks down onto him. “Feel so full,” she gasps, his cock stretching her deliciously. She can feel him rubbing against the plug through her walls and her toes curl when he thrusts up experimentally. “God, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.”

Killian nods, red-faced and apparently unable to speak.

If she was wired earlier, it’s nothing compared to the feeling now. She feels the plug with every slide of his cock, the dual sensation driving her up the wall and making her simultaneously wish to come  _ now _ and also to feel like this forever. She feels full, but more importantly she feels  _ whole. _

She feels complete with Killian.

It’s not even a race to see who can finish first -- they’re both so overwhelmed with these new feelings that it’s almost simultaneous. Killian’s scream overcomes hers, his hips bucking up into hers as she clenches around him, milking him dry. She practically wilts against him, both of them too boneless to move or even bother separating. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma’s aware that they’re both sweaty and her thighs are sticky and they need to clean themselves and their toys, but she’s entirely too spent to care.

She musters up enough energy to reach over to the side table, holding down the button on her phone. “Siri, set a timer for ten minutes,” she says, just audible enough for the phone to pick up.

“You do have the best ideas, my love,” Killian murmurs underneath her as she collapses back on top of him.


	32. Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> captain--kitten made [this gorgeous manip](http://captainkitten.com/post/142369059382/now-close-your-eyes-and-start-to-breathe-allow) (I mean, when aren't Ann's manips gorgeous) and then was like "I would not be opposed to someone making this smutty....????" so here I am.
> 
> This one is very soft and fluffy. Next one-off will probably be rough, but it's a ways away while I deal with the end of the semester!

He ducks his head and rubs that spot under his ear when she tells him he’s beautiful.

He’s all swagger and confidence in front of everyone else but it falls away, mostly, when it’s just them. A reminder that his walls are just as thick and guarded as hers, that he’s let her in just as closely as she’s done the same in return.

But here, especially -- here where the cherry blossoms bloom in a riot of pink and white, here where the petals fall around them and coat the ground like snow -- he’s beautiful and she doesn’t care how many times she has to tell him and how many times he tries to deny her praise. She whispers it into his skin as she slowly strips him out of his layers, murmurs it into his ear as she reaches up to brush petals out of his hair, says it silently with every brush of her fingers against his body as she lays him out on the petaled forest floor.

She tells him how he makes her feel, her voice slow and soft as she shimmies out of her pretty dress. _No one but you_ and _loved_ and _cherished_ and _safe, oh so safe and loved_. Wanted, desired, _needed_.

Like there’s never been anyone else. Like there never _will_ be anyone else, never again. Only her, only him.

It’s as if she’s drunk on the way he stares at her, stares at every new inch of skin revealed, mouth slightly agape as she falls to her knees and straddles him. Her hands press into his chest as she sinks down, down, down, filling herself up with his cock, their eyes locked together as she whispers how he makes her _feel_.

Full. Whole. _Complete_.

He’s beautiful, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut, the tendons in his neck taut as he holds back. She rides him with her hands pressed against his chest, her hips undulating and her toes curling when his cock hits just the right place inside her. The petals drift down like snow around them, sprinkled across his chest and her hands, a full blossom getting caught in a wayward curl of his dark hair.

He’s beautiful and the sunlight streams down through the trees just as she feels her orgasm about to peak. Her nails dig into his chest as she comes, her head thrown back and a cry on her lips as magic sparks under her skin and she feels him pulse deep inside her.

“My beautiful Swan,” he whispers later, his hand stroking her back and their bodies still joined as she lays draped across his chest on the forest floor.

There’s blossoms pressed between them and petals scattered across her skin and caught in her hair, but he’s still the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. She lifts her head and presses a kiss to his lips, murmuring against them, “My beautiful pirate.”


	33. Threesome (OMC x Killian x Emma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked for: **"CS kinky smut prompt: Killian explores his sexuality with another man (not his first time) while Emma watches (much to her pleasure)"**
> 
> I have like seven hundred things to do but naturally my brain is just spitting ideas for these backed up porn prompts. Changed this one just a tiny bit to suit my whimsy.
> 
> **So hey, there’s some dudes-fucking-dudes happening here. If that’s not your thing, don’t read it. Said dude is an unnamed character, because a) it wasn’t specified, b) I couldn’t decide, so c) he’s just being used for his dick anyway and I don’t think it particularly matters.**

 

With the curse broken and the kingdom restored, Killian often finds himself at a loss for how to occupy his time.

A prince consort is not a pirate captain -- not a respectable one, at any rate. He’s sat through countless decorum sessions, many of them to keep his wife company as she assumes the mantle of princess, but some to refresh his own respectability. He’s trained the lad to duel with a blade and woo a lady. He’s offered his counsel at war meetings and crop management sessions alike.

And he is bored.

He longs for the open sea, for adventure with his wife and his son at his side. He longs for a new port, new sights, new smells. He longs for _something_ , though what exactly he cannot name.

And Emma notices.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she says softly one night. Their chambers glow in the candlelight and he swears she’s never looked more beautiful than when she comes with firelight dancing across her skin.

She’s curled around him, both of their bodies flushed and sated; she traces nonsensical patterns against his skin with her fingers, featherlight kisses brushing his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, reaching to lace their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Emma levels him with look. “Superpower.”

Killian sighs. He loves her dearly, but she knows him too well. On occasion he can get away with small falsehoods, but never when she’s already suspicious. “I don’t know,” he says. “I feel... I feel rather like a sailor with no compass, I suppose. I have a sturdy ship with which to sail upon, a fair wind at my back, and yet I have no purpose. No destination.”

“Oh, Killian.”

There’s a note of sadness in her voice. He rolls to his side, facing her, their entwined hands between them. “I love you,” he says reassuringly. “I love waking up with you and spending our days together. I love making love to you in the evenings and falling asleep holding you. I love this little life we’ve carved out for ourselves amidst the hubris of court life. This is my own fault, darling, not yours.”

Emma leans forward, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. “And I love you. And I can still feel bad you’re not completely happy. This is your happy ending too, Killian. I want to help you.”

Few things make his heart swell with love more than when she speaks of their happy ending -- their family, their love, their home. “Here I believed the tales that the Savior had restored all the happy endings and now rested comfortably on her laurels in a palace deep in the forest,” he says, his voice light and teasing.

Her mouth twists in the most deliciously captivating pout, one he can’t help but attempt to kiss away. “I’m serious,” she says, breathless after only a moment. “One thing. Anything that I can do to help you feel better. We can go away on the _Jolly Roger_ for a while. We can sail anywhere you want, or we can take horses and have an adventure here. I can order everyone away for a month and we can stay holed up here in our room and you can have your wicked way with me.”

Something sparks in his mind at that, something long ago and forgotten.

He’s lived a very long time. He’s not been without boredom in his life, not been without times of loneliness and wondering endless  _what ifs_. He’s not been without changes in heart or mind, not been without adventures of all sorts.

But now, now he has been without a few things for a very long time.

* * *

 

He’s ready but he’s not prepared for the catch, the dip of an unfamiliar cock inside him, oh so briefly. Killian’s on his hands and knees, his eyes locked with Emma’s as she lays spread on a chaise lounge across from their bed, bare but for an opened silk robe draped across her shoulders and arms.

He tries to keep his eyes open, tries to watch as her fingers dance along her slit, but he’s being penetrated -- a slow, thick burn, one he hasn’t felt in decades -- and he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut as a moan escapes his throat. His toes curl as his paramour slides out again, coating them both in slick oils to make the passage easier; Killian’s sure fingers are sure to be marked with the crosshatch of the bedding for days, but _gods_ he can’t help it, even as another strangled cry escapes him as the man they’d conscripted into their bedroom _slams_ inside him.

“Look at me.”

Emma’s voice is subtle yet firm, and Killian’s gaze flies back to hers. She’s a glorious creature, her hair in an artful array of curls; her hands cup and mold her breasts and Killian’s mouth is dry from the overwhelming urge to suck her pretty pink nipples. His breaths come short as his paramour begins a rhythmic thrust; Killian struggles to watch Emma as she slips one hand down her body to toy with her quim. “You like this? Watching me, seeing what it does to me to watch you?” she asks, slipping twp fingers between her folds.

Killian nods, too overcome to speak. Her eyes narrow slightly, even as two fingers slip into her heat -- he wonders how wet she is, how she tastes -- gods, to be fucking her while _being_ fucked. Perhaps... “I asked you a question, Killian,” Emma snaps, looking up and over his shoulder and nodding.

His paramour pulls back slightly, pausing. Killian gets no further warning than that before a rough hand comes down _hard_ on his ass. He moans, the sting immediately blooming into pleasure. He’s never been so hard in his life and he aches for some sort of relief, but only Emma is allowed to touch his cock tonight.

And as much as he wants the punishments, he wants to please her too. Pleasing her means having her hands on him, even as he’s being fucked into oblivion.

“I love it,” he manages to say as his paramour resumes fucking him. He wants to be fucked hard, fucked into the blasted mattress, but not without Emma. He wants her too. “I love watching you, always. But I love it more -- love it when you watch me.”

Killian’s head drops as he tries to catch his breath, the cock inside him catching the right angles that make his spine tingle and his toes curl. He sees his own cock, painfully red, precum beading at the tip and waiting for Emma’s lips -- _fuck_ , terrible line of thinking, that. He breathes deep, trying to breathe evenly and loosen the tightness in his groin, holding out on his release. “Emma, _please_ ,” he grits out.

She gasps and his head whips up, eyes widening as he watches her fuck herself on her own fingers. Her thumb circles her clit, her other hand squeezing and flicking her nipples at turn. “Come, sweetheart,” Killian rasps, groaning as his paramour hits that perfect spot again. “Let me see you come, let me taste you.”

Emma cries out, her hips rocking up as she presses her fingers deep into herself. A blush blooms across her breasts and Killian wants nothing more than to bury himself in her sweet quim, the three of them chasing their pleasures until they passed out from exhaustion.

He watches her for a long moment as she comes down, her chest heaving and her fingers still within her. Finally, she sits up, getting to her feet with a slight wobble. She walks to the shaking bed, sitting on the edge and pressing her fingers to his lips. “Taste me,” Emma commands and he is helpless but to obey her.

He sucks her essence from her fingers, tongue swirling around each digit and careful not to leave any of her sweetness behind. He makes a small sound of protest as she pulls away, but Emma rewards him by sliding under him a little. “Did you like that?” she asks, reaching up and running her hands along his quivering stomach muscles.

“Aye, very much, love.”

She hums, a satisfied smile on her face, and he aches to taste her as she slides further underneath him. Her body is nearly bare but his favorite spots lay brazenly on display, just inches from him... maybe if he’s daring...

He pauses with a hiss as Emma takes the tip of his cock in her mouth. Her tongue swirls, cleaning the head and he swears he’s going to come in a moment, right down that pretty throat if she doesn’t _stop_ \--

She stops.

Killian practically growls in frustration and Emma glares at him. “Someone’s not very patient,” she scolds. “Go ahead.”

His paramour pauses again and another slap lands hard on his ass.

Killian’s going to come if they slap him again. He’s so tightly wound, he’s going to come in a second if he’s not allowed some sort of relief. “I’m sorry,” he gasps as his paramour starts thrusting again. Killian swallows hard, focusing his thoughts anywhere else to avoid coming all over Emma’s face. “I’m sorry, please, I just need you. I need your mouth, your quim, I need _you_ , Emma _please_ \--”

She tucks herself into a little ball and turns to right herself underneath him. “You beg so nicely,” Emma says softly, running a finger along his jaw. “What do you think, should we give him what he wants?”

“Perhaps he’s earned it, your highness.”

Emma’s eyes search his and Killian nods slowly, silently pleading. He needs to come, needs release, needs _her_. She reaches between them and takes his cock in hand. His paramour slows, allowing Killian’s legs to unbend slightly. It takes some maneuvering, but finally, _finally_ , Emma takes him into her welcoming body. He very nearly does come as her warmth grips him tight, but there’s a shred of sanity left and he clings to it with all his might.

There are a few fits and starts as they find a rhythm that works for the three of them. Killian finds himself in more control as he thrusts into Emma, each time he pulls back impaling him more onto his paramour’s cock. His arms tremble and he’s certain he’s weeping from the overwhelming sensations, but he’s going to hold out for Emma.

The best sex he’s had in decades should at least result in his wife coming as well.

She reaches between them, her fingers furiously rubbing at her clit. Killian leans down, capturing a nipple between his lips and sucking, licking and soothing. Her cries are breathy in his ears as he switches to the neglected breast, each gasp stuttering as the double impact of Killian and his paramour hit her. “Fuck --” she whispers. “Fuck, I’m gonna --”

But he knows, because her warmth rippling and squeezing around him is enough for him to finally let go, finally succumb to that blinding white pleasure he’s denied himself for so long.

He must have blacked out for a few minutes. When he comes to, Emma is gently cleaning him with a damp rag. “Where’s --” Killian slurs, his brain and mouth not on quite the same page in terms of attentiveness.

“He left a few minutes ago. He finished, too,” Emma says. “I thanked him for you, don’t worry.”

He’s too tired to help, though he does feel a bit guilty as Emma walks around their chambers on unsteady legs, cleaning up and turning down their room for the night. He manages to crawl under the blankets, tossing aside the dirty quilt. Emma giggles across the room, and disappears into their little linens area for another heavy quilt. She returns and spreads it haphazardly over their bed and then joins him under the covers.

Killian almost immediately latches onto her, tangling their legs together and pressing them together almost hip to shoulder. He nuzzles the sensitive spot under her ear, a content sigh on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs; his body feels happily used and stretched to the limits, a feeling he doesn’t know when last happened, and he’s more than ready for a full night’s rest. “Thank you for tonight.”

“I love you too,” Emma says quietly, hugging his arms to her chest. “I told you, anything you need and I’m more than happy to help.”

The last thing Killian thinks before drifting into a dreamless sleep is how so very lucky he is to have found his happily ever after.


	34. Take Them Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm destroyed.
> 
> Spoilers for 5x20.

“You have to take them back,” she whispers that night. That night he’s safe and home with her, safe in her arms and in their bed, his heart safely in his chest and thumping steadily against the palm of her hand. The night after her miracle, his miracle, his return to her and the healing of the wounds in her heart.

“Take back what, darling?” he asks and she hears it in his chest more than from his lips; she’s tucked against him, pressed as close against him as she dares without actually merging their bodies.

Again.

Not that she’d mind that.

“You kissed my hand,” Emma says softly. She suppresses a shiver when his hand skims the curve of her ass, gliding up her back and mapping every bump and freckle along the way. “When you made me leave, you kissed my hand. And you have to take those back. Because I don’t want you to kiss my hand sometime in the future and only be able to think about the time I thought it would be the last time.”

His hand slips between her side and her arm, and then she feels his fingers under her chin, gently nudging her head up to look at him properly. There’s love shining in his eyes -- _true love_ , Jesus Christ -- and an easy smile on his lips as he says, “You wish me to replace a somber memory with a happier one, then?”

“ _Somber_ puts it a bit lightly, but,” Emma says and his grin widens, “I would really, _really_ like to not be scarred for life on hand-kisses. Since you seem the type and all.”

And now his hand is skimming her arm, leaving goosebumps rippling in its wake, and Emma smiles at the familiarity of the gesture -- so reminiscent of their first real date when she’d tried to reassure him about the incident with Will. But instead of lacing her flexed fingers with his, he grips her fingers loosely and brings them to his lips.

It’s such a simple thing, but it’s so _intimate_. The hard calluses on his fingers feel rough against her softer ones -- no less afraid of work, but she’s always careful to take care of her skin. Killian’s eyes don’t leave hers as he kisses the pad of each fingertip. Her breath hitches in her throat she he moves down to her knuckles, his beard tickling the sensitive skin as he goes. His eyes close only for a moment when he reaches the ring sitting on her ring finger, lips lingering briefly on the stone and Emma feels another lump rising in her throat.

God, she’d cried enough earlier when she’d said _yes_ , this is getting ridiculous.

And now his lips pepper the back of her hand with light touches, brief moments of affection and love and devotion, but just before Emma can speak to thank him he’s moving down to her wrist, then up her arm. His tongue flicks at the inside of her elbow and she squirms in his hold. The bastard has the gall to chuckle as he kisses up her arm, to her shoulder and then down to her collarbones.

By now she’s got his measure, happily following his lead to roll onto her back and allowing the siege of kisses to continue. He speaks as he moves, his voice low and rumbling, words punctuated with more kisses as his path moves downward. “One of these days,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’m going to touch every part of this lovely body. I’m going to catalog every sound every patch of skin elicits from you. I’m going to lash you to the bedposts and worship you as you deserve, wring every drop of pleasure from you until you can’t bear to take any more.”

His lips close over a nipple and Emma almost comes on the spot. He’s hardly touched her and she’s wound tighter than a spring. She’s glad he hasn’t tied her up tonight because it means she can grip his hair, run her hands across the thick muscles along his shoulders and down his back, as far as she can reach, memorizing his body with her hands while he does the same to her with his lips. His kisses get rougher the further down he goes, suckling and biting at her stomach, but she’s quick to nudge him back up to her.

They have all the time in the world for that later. As much as she loves his tongue, she wants him inside her _now_.

He takes her in a smooth stroke, his lips fused to hers. It hasn’t even been a full hour since the last time he made love to her, but Emma wants to cry all the same. He feels _good_ , he fills her in ways she’d never imagined -- and just twenty-four hours ago, she’d never expected to feel this again. He thumbs a stray tear from her cheek, choosing not to remark on it and instead encouraging her to kiss him again.

Theirs is a lazy dance, without urgency to prove anything, with all the time in the world on their side. The familiar build, the bubbling joy deep inside, stays just out of reach as he moves within her and she wraps herself around him in every way she can.

“Together,” she gasps when he strikes a sensitive spot.

“Always,” Killian whispers, slanting his mouth across hers as his pace picks up.

When she comes, she feels only lightness -- it makes her toes curl, her thighs tingle where they meet his, and wipes any trace of sorrow from her mind for a few moments of pure bliss. Emma catches him as he falls heavily against her, only holding him tighter when he tries to apologize and move off. “I like it,” she admits, enjoying the feeling of both of their hearts racing. “I like you like this.”

“Aye, weak as a kitten and sated on the pleasures of the flesh,” he jokes, but snakes his arms under her anyway to hold her closer.

She plays with his hair, the dim light glinting off the silver of her ring. She smiles, nosing the crown of his head before pressing a kiss there. “I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you too,” he rumbles against her. “Is this a happier memory, then?”

Emma smiles, thinking of that awful elevator ride and the way he’d vanished from view, possibly forever, and the feeling of her heart cracking in two even as it lay in a bag in her hand.

It still hurts, but there’s less hurt than there was before.

He’s here now. Their love is true. And that’s all that really matters, in the end.

“Yeah,” she says, her heart content. “This is a much happier memory.”


	35. Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a follower appreciation on Tumblr, and anonymous asked for "CS + spanking (kinky but not too much so?)". And since I am an equal opportunity bedroom position-ist, (and really enjoy Killian as a submissive), Emma's doing the spanking.

God, she could eat him up when he’s like this. Well, truthfully she could at any time, but there’s something about Killian Jones in the buff, on his knees, bound to the bed, and practically squirming with anticipation that makes him particularly delicious.

“You were right,” she murmurs, keeping her touch light as she trails her fingers up the backs of his thighs.

“In regards to what –” Killian’s words abruptly change to a strangled cry as her hand lands hard on his ass.

He breathes hard as she soothes the hurt. She flexes and clenches her fingers to get rid of the sting as she leans forward, breathing her next words into his ear. “I really am into this.”

“Please,” he whispers, the need in his voice making her warm all over.

She sits back on her haunches, tilting her head slightly and considering her next target. He really does have a fantastic ass; it just looks better when it’s all pink and covered in her handprints.

She makes him count them. Every crack of her hand on his tender skin is followed by a heavy exhale and a breathy number. After five, she swears he’s leaning into it, guessing her timing and making the impact harder. After ten, she gives him a slight reprieve, soothing his warm, pink skin with her cooler left hand and reaching around him to stroke his cock with her right. Killian groans, rutting into her grip. “Gods, I shan’t last much longer if you continue,” he bites out.

Emma kisses one of the dimples in his lower back. She grips him enough to tease, hardly enough friction to give him the release he’ll be begging for soon enough. “You know what I think?” she asks.

He makes a questioning noise, as if he’s too overwhelmed to actually form words. He’d actually fallen down to his elbows after the seventh slap and his legs tremble even as she just strokes his skin.

She really, really loves him like this.

“I think you like this too,” Emma says, then spanks him again.

He cries out something that sounds like it might be _eleven_ , but she’s quickly moving through twelve, thirteen, fourteen, before punctuating fifteen with, “Ask me nicely.”

Her hand’s still on his cock and she squeezes ever so slightly, enough to make him groan as she slides her hand up and over the sensitive head. “Please,” he says, hips jutting forward as she strokes him.

“Please what?” Emma asks, spanking him again. “Please stop? Please fuck you? Please let you come?”

Each question comes with another slap, another cry from his lips, another round of trembling. “Anything,” Killian says, crying out again when she slaps him for the twentieth time. “Please, Emma, I’ll do anything you wish! Anything, gods, just let me come, I need –”

She releases his cock and slips her fingers between her legs, gathering some of the wetness and bringing her fingers to his lips. He sucks on her like a starved man, tongue cleaning her skin and teasing the sensitive pads of her fingertips. “What do you need, Killian?” she asks softly.

He glances over his shoulder and she suppresses a moan: his pupils are almost completely blown out, his cheeks and the tip of his ears red, and the way he looks at her – desperate, pleading, _wanting_ – almost makes her throw out this whole begging thing and ride him until they black out. “You,” he breathes. “Always you.”

She’s left some slack in his bindings, enough to let him roll onto his back without hurting his shoulders. His cock – thick and almost painfully red, precum beading at the tip – bobs against his stomach as she straddles his thighs. She wets her lips, eyes raking down his stretched out form. God, he really is beautiful – cut muscles and silvery-pink scar tissue, coarse dark hair covering just about everything. She takes his cock in hand, pumping slowly; Killian whimpers, just a little, and she asks, “Hurts?”

“Hard,” he replies, voice straining and the cords in his neck stark as he tries to hold back. “Want – _need_ you, Emma, _please_ –”

He keeps chanting _please please please_ under his breath as she lifts herself up, moving higher and positioning herself over his cock. She sinks onto him slowly, watching the way his face twists and he hisses out his breath. “Fuck,” she whispers when he bottoms out.

She splays her hands across his chest as she begins to rock. When she finds a rhythm, she tells him, “I’m gonna ride you until you can’t walk straight for a week. You’re not gonna be able to sit without that ass stinging, reminding you how much you like me slapping the hell out of you. Maybe I left a mark – maybe in a few days you’ll be strutting around the house naked like a cocky sonovabitch and I’ll see it. I’ll see it and remember how gorgeous you look when you’re begging for me, all tied up and wrecked like we’ve gone four rounds and I’ve hardly touched you.”

Killian cries out as she slams down onto him, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have her coming around him. She’s almost there, almost –

He stiffens under her, mouth opened in a silent scream and she feels him pulse inside her. She reaches down, rubbing her clit and drawing out his orgasm just as hers hits.

When the blissful fog starts to clear from her brain, Emma manages to get up, not quite boneless but a bit wobbly as she moves to untie him. She feels his sticky release sliding down her thighs but she needs to take care of him first. She kisses his wrists as she releases him, then his forehead, then his lips. “Hey,” she says, smiling when he opens his eyes and looks at her like she’s some kind of angel. “I’m gonna grab the lotion and you tell me where it hurts most, okay?”

“Doesn’t hurt, love,” Killian says, his voice hoarse. “You were bloody brilliant.”

She kisses him again, moaning when he manages to slip his tongue in her mouth – pilfering pirate. “Well, tough guy, I’ll still make sure you don’t sting quite as much. Love you,” she tells him, kissing his forehead again before getting up to clean herself.

“I love you too.”


	36. Quickie in a Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted: "There is some formal function/party/wedding(not theirs) in SB and they have to get dressed up. Killian wheres a tux, she has to help him tie his tie. And then they have sex or almost sex at the party. Oh and can you make it in canon/canon divergent? Thanks!!"

The second he steps out from the bathroom, she forgets why they have to leave the house at all.

“Love, I can’t get this bloody -- oh,” he says, and apparently he’s forgotten why they have to leave the house at all too.

She feels warm, watching his eyes rake down her body; he likes this set of lingerie, the black lace that leaves very little to the imagination, and she’d chosen to wear it tonight with that in mind. But she’s never seen Killian dressed like this: she’s used to the shirt and waistcoat, but only once has his shirt been white and long has it been since she’s seen him in red. The buttons are half-done as usual, as if he’d gotten bored halfway through, and his tie is carelessly slung across one shoulder. The pants are another issue, as are the French cuffs, and she can see where there might have been too many buttons and snaps and zippers for one hand.

Emma smiles and slips on her dress, red like his waistcoat to match, leaving it unzipped in the back. “Come here.”

She doesn’t know why she’s bothering to cover him up so much, not when she really just wants to strip him down and have her way with him, but the masochistic part of her wants to see him dressed to the nines. It’s going to be torture all night, all this eye candy on her arm, but she supposes she can wait to enjoy her treat fully.

She starts with his shirt, buttoning it to the neck and smoothing the pout of his lips away with a brush of her thumb. She tucks it into his pants, making sure not to crease anything before doing up the zipper and then her fingers gently brush the clasps of the suspenders; her mouth goes dry as she imagines stripping him out of the vest, and just admiring the way he looks wearing suspenders.

The waistcoat buttons up quickly, and the cufflinks that had been a Christmas present from her parents last year are fitted into the cuffs. Emma does up his bowtie quickly and efficiently, every brush of her fingers against his neck making his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

When she helps him into his dinner jacket, careful of his new prosthetic for such occasions, she steps back to admire the fact that this is officially the least amount of skin he’s ever exposed and he’s still the most attractive man she’s ever seen.

And she absolutely cannot wait to strip him down again.

“Zip me?” she asks, turning around.

His touch on her waist sends electricity zipping through her skin. She feels his breath warm on her ear as he slowly pulls her zipper up and whispers, “You are a minx, love.”

“You’re one to talk,” she murmurs. “You never wear this many clothes and you still look --”

“I know,” he says and she can just picture his annoyingly smug grin.

It’s there when she glances over her shoulder.

As she steps into her shoes, Emma says, “Let’s get this show on the road. Faster we get there, faster we can get home.”

“I concur.”

* * *

Honestly, she’s surprised they even made it ninety minutes.

Emma still has no idea what or who this party is for, just that Killian dragged her off to a dark corner at the first chance he could to suck a mark into the side of her neck. She’s happy she wore her hair down but she’s not sure it’s going to go _completely_ unnoticed. “Killian,” she sighs his name as his hand roughly massages her breast.

“We need to find a more private venue,” he murmurs against her skin just before he bites the juncture of her neck. “I’m about to take you right here against this wall.”

Emma gently eases him off of her and takes his hand. She gives the area a quick once-over to make sure no one’s spotted them, then pulls him towards the nearest door.

There’s a coat room a little ways down the hall that they steal away into, locking the door behind them. Killian has her against it in a moment, his lips on hers and his hands sliding her dress up her thighs. “We -- have to be quick --” Emma says between kisses.

Whatever she wanted to say next is swallowed up by a moan as his fingers hit their mark, sliding along her lace-covered slit and making her _want_. “Please,” she whispers, fighting off whimpers as he continues to tease, rubbing her lightly over the fabric and turning her limbs to jelly. “Please, just rip them off, I need you -- Killian, I’m so wet _please_!”

“Help me out of this bloody suit,” he mutters, biting her lip.

She thrusts the coat down his arms as he lets it drop to the floor, undoing his tie in the next breath and popping a few buttons to let him breathe. He reaches between her legs again, fingers curling around the crotch of her flimsy panties and _pulling_. She gasps as she feels them snap, fingers fumbling as she undoes his pants enough to free his cock.

Emma almost rolls her eyes when she notices him pocketing her ruined panties, but she’s too far gone to care that much. He sighs when she grips his length, stroking him a few times for good measure. “I thought you needed me,” Killian says, his voice strained as she swipes her thumb over the tip.

“So take me, Captain,” Emma says, a challenge in her voice and a smirk on her lips.

Somewhat to her surprise, he has her turn around, bending to brace herself on the door. Her heels give her a bit of an advantage, angling her higher so he can easily slip between her thighs. She whines, her hands curling into fists and her nails digging into her palms as he stretches her slowly. “We have to be quick,” she says as he bottoms out; she says it a bit breathily and she _really_ hates that they can’t take their time.

He doesn’t bother with a response, just gripping her hips as he pulls back, but before she can miss the fullness he thrusts back in.

Emma mostly holds on for the ride, pushing back against him for a bit before he leans over her to tease her breasts through her dress again. She whimpers, _needing_ that skin contact more than she can say. “I’ll take care of you when we’re home,” he says, grunting as he picks up the past. “Strip you bare, suck those pretty nipples, taste your sweetness until you can’t bear it. We have all night, darling, this is just the appetizer.”

“Promises, promises,” she bites out as he hits her g-spot.

“Have I ever told you a lie?”

She can only shake her head, reaching down to rub her clit. If she comes now, then she’ll be sated for at least... another ninety minutes. Maybe two hours, if she doesn’t stare at the way Killian’s ass fills out those pants.

_Maybe_.

She feels him stiffen, a low groan in his throat as he comes inside her, and another moment later she’s biting her lip to hold in a cry as she comes around him.

“Fuck,” she whispers as he pulls out of her. She needs to stop in the restroom before heading back to the party, she can already feel his come sliding down her thighs.

“Aye,” he says, sounding breathless.

Standing up hurts and even though it was just a quickie in the closet she feels like curling up and taking a nap. “Here, I’ll -- I’ll get your tie back on,” Emma says as he reaches for his jacket on the floor. “Fuck, we probably look like we just had sex in a closet.”

He hands her the jacket as he shoves his cock back into his pants and zips them up again. “Likely because we did just have sex in a closet.”

“My mother’s going to kill me if she finds out.”

“And I’m to be spared?”

Emma glares at him as she does his shirt up again. “She likes you better, especially after she drank you under the table last spring.”

Killian grins as she reties his tie. “Your mother is a formidable opponent.”

“And apparently they don’t have tequila in the Enchanted Forest.”

She checks to make sure the coast is clear before they slip out of the closet. Emma grabs Killian by the lapel before they duck into their respective bathrooms. “Love you,” she says, kissing him.

“Love you too.”


	37. Emma Pegs Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two anons wanted a scene of Emma pegging Killian.
> 
>  
> 
> **This is a prompt with Killian enthusiastically getting fucked in the ass. If this is not your thing, you do not have to read it. Click the back button, go read something else.**

Emma weighed the box in her hands, studying the glossy letters carefully. “This is very... proactive, Killian,” she said, glancing up at him.

He watched her with trepidation. Yes, he’d used the magic computer box to order it -- Henry had ensured his education with the device some months ago and the demon machine wasn’t so much of a demon once he understood it -- but he supposed he should have discussed this particular fantasy with Emma before making it. “If it upsets you, Swan, we can --”

“No!” she said, quick to cut him off and in such a way that had his hopes rising tentatively. “No,” she said again, quieter this time. “It’s not -- I’ve just never done this for anyone before, so it’s kinda new. And I didn’t know you... knew about this, I guess.”

“The internet, or that one can purchase such devices on it, or that I have been known to enjoy the feel of a cock in my ass?” Killian asked, quirking an eyebrow up in amusement.

Emma huffed, her eyes rolling in that endearingly exasperated way of hers. “The second one. I’m not dumb, Killian.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Ah, so you believe me to be a -- what did Henry call it, a man-whore?”

“Oh my God.”

He harbored no secret anguish about his past. He knew how he looked and what he could do with his body, and he had spent several centuries caring not a whit for who cared to discover it for themselves. As long as everyone went about the rest of their day satisfied, it meant nothing. “Emma, truly,” Killian said, stepping forward and reaching for the box, “if it’s something you want no part of, I can return it.”

She snatched it out of his reach. “I didn’t say that,” she said, her eyes snapping up to meet his. he saw the challenge there, the desire to play this little fantasy out to the end, and he loved her all the more for it. “There’s just... Sometimes there’s roles to play, in this world, when a guy wants this from a woman. Do you want me to -- to be anyone in particular, I guess?”

Killian’s smile widened. “I just want you to be you, Swan.”

* * *

For someone who claimed no knowledge of it, she’s quite adept at picking up the finer mechanics. Or perhaps his Swan had done some internet browsing of her own. “Oh, bloody fuck,” he hissed as she licked a stripe up his cock.

“Sorry, what?” Emma asked, her tone cheeky.

She had two well-oiled fingers sliding in and out of his ass, gently stretching him and making him squirm. Clever Swan that she was, she’d found the spot inside that made his legs twitch and his cock harder than a bloody rock. She’d noticed, naturally, and had taken the matter quite in hand -- or in mouth, as it were. She briefly lapped at his slit, tasting the pre-cum beading there, before taking the head fully in her mouth. Killian cried out, back bowing slightly as he tried to lessen the tightness in his groin. “Emma, gods _Emma_! Please, I don’t -- I don’t want to come just yet --”

She released him with a slight pop and a pout on her pretty lips. “I like the way you taste,” she told him huskily as she slid a third finger inside of him, the stretch and the slight burn just as good as he remembered it being.

“And glad I am to hear it,” he bit out, his hips starting to rock in time with her fingers. Gods, he was moving as she did with his fingers in her quim. “But we’re hardly at the fun part.”

“True,” Emma agreed. She traced the veins of his cock with a feather-light touch as she continued to finger-fuck him. The burn slowly vanished, leaving only pure pleasure coursing through him. “Good?” she asked, though when he opened his eyes and saw the happy glint in her eye, she already knew her answer.

He wondered what she saw in him that made her so happy. Aye, True Love, but in _this_ instant -- did she feel as he did when she was stretched out before him like a feast to be devoured? Nothing but miles of flushed skin and a heaving chest, a partner -- no, a _lover_ \-- almost begging to be allowed release? To see her in such a state, knowing that he had been the one to put her in such a position, certainly made him the happiest man in all the realms. “Please, Emma,” he whispered.

The precious minutes spent trying to secure herself into the harness allowed him time to breathe, to quell his racing heart and tell his impending orgasm to bugger off for a bit longer. She slathered the false cock in more oils -- _lube_ , she called it earlier, a wondrous invention -- and rimmed his hole with the stuff to make her passage easy. She surprised him by letting him remain on his back -- he thought for sure she’d prefer to have him on his knees -- but she did get up to stand at the edge of the bed. She pulled him towards her by his ankle, giggling at what must have been the look of bewilderment on his face.

She positioned his legs how she wanted him, then positioned the false cock at his hole. Emma met his eyes, raising her eyebrows. “Ready?”

“Gods, yes, please.”

_Oh_ , that was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in decades. She pushed into him slowly and he grasped at the sheets desperately, feeling as if he might cease to exist if he didn’t hang on to something. Emma released one of his legs, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I’ve got you,” she said softly, pulling out a little.

“ _No_ ,” Killian rasped, his eyes screwed shut. “More, Emma, _please_.”

He groaned, deep in his throat, when she hit the base. The false cock was just long enough, hitting the right spots, making him tremble with need. She seemed to sense it, starting to make shallow thrusts. “Tell me if it hurts,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, squeezing back to reassure her, then lost himself in the pleasure washing over him. Emma was a natural, knowing just how hard to thrust, murmuring words of encouragement and praise the whole time. He hardly noticed when her other hand released his leg, but he gasped when it found his cock. She stroked him in time with her thrusts, her grip loose and not intended to make him come, not just yet.

But he still whined when she took her hand away. “Impatient,” she teased.

“Need you. Need to come, _gods_ , you’re a bloody marvel Swan --” he said, but his next words got lost in a strangled cry as the false cock began _stirring_ within him.

His mind stopped working for a long moment, every ounce of his willpower focused on not coming, not just yet. When he felt under his own control again, he realized what the stirring sensation was. Emma had her own toys that had the same feature, an intense vibration that had her dripping wet in moments and screaming his name in minutes. “Forgot about that, didn’t you?” Emma asked, starting to thrust faster as the vibrating cock knocked the last bit of conversation out of him.

Her hand returned to his cock, and thankfully she didn’t try to suck him off while fucking him because he was certain he’d die. She held his hand in hers as she fucked him harder, her thrusts becoming more erratic as she tried to find the perfect angle to make him come. He was sure there was only nonsense slipping from his tongue, vague syllables that attempted to be words, for pleasure had all but fried his brain.

All he knew was the feel of Emma stroking him, fucking him, and holding him as he toppled over that edge into sweet oblivion.

* * *

He came to much later -- much later, apparently, as he was bundled under the blankets in their bed, his body feeling sore and used but clean, and Emma curled up around him from behind. “Hey,” she said quietly, kissing the back of his neck. “You had me worried for a while, I had to use a little magic to get you up here and under the covers.”

“M’fine, darling,” he said, his throat feeling drier than the deserts of Agrabah.

She moved away a little, and he missed her warmth instantly, but she asked him to roll over so she could hand him a glass of water. He drank greedily, then handed the empty glass back to be put on their nightstand. He pulled her close to him, tucking her just under his chin. “You were amazing, Emma,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Though I should return the favor...”

She giggled as his hand slipped down her side, but she stopped him. “You can repay me later,” she said. “Well-rested Killian is something I’m much more interested in right now.”

He move his hand, tilting her chin up to kiss her slowly, slipping his tongue between her lips briefly. “I love you,” Killian told her when they broke for air.

“I love you, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have p l e n t y of prompts for Killian paying extra special attention to Emma, don’t worry about prompting me with that. He will return the favor eventually and enthusiastically! :)


	38. Rival Pirate Captains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked for: rival pirate captains AU with lots of smut.
> 
> This gets... slightly rough. I had an anonymous comment here a while back asking for a long list of raw and/or rough requests, and while I wasn’t comfortable with all of the requests, I figured that if I was going to fill that request, might as well do it with good reason. So why not with pirates who get pissed at each other?

A man could hardly think with such noise around him, the laughter of his crew drowning out the bickering of the caravan guards across the room. But theirs was a jovial laugh, well-earned after a haul that could bring even His Bloody Majesty to his knobbly knees.

Yes, the crew of the _Jolly Roger_ would feast well, drink well, and fuck well for several nights to come before weighing anchor once more. It was a good fight, and luckier still that they'd managed to run across the _Highland Viper_ when she'd been in such a state --

" _Hook!_ "

And yet over the noise of his crew and the caravan occupying the tavern tonight, he still heard her lovely cry.

Killian knocked back the rest of his tankard and waved to the serving wench for two more. Surely Swan would need to wet her pretty throat at some point during her scolding, whatever it was that he'd done to incur her wrath this time. The crowd parted like ripples on a calm sea and she stormed through, her hair a mess of sea-swept braids and jeweled decorations. Her eyes were like fire, her cheeks flushed with rage, and if the man at the door hadn't made her leave her sword -- _come now, Swan, this is a respectable tavern_ , Killian thought as he accepted his tankards -- he's sure she'd have the business end pointed at his throat.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Captain Swan," he said, bowing in his seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Sit, love, we'll chat."

Her first -- a woman with a wicked hand for knives called Snow White -- stood at her left, while the navigator -- Ruby Red, she was called, for the stones she wore in her hair and the blood she spilled from any man who tried to pilfer them -- had her right. Swan fumed for a long moment, then held up a hand signal. Snow and Ruby nodded, backing off but staying within sight. Swan sat, straddling the bench as easily as he, and accepted the tankard she offered him.

As irate as she was, she accepted his toast, but didn't drink -- instead, she plunked the tankard from his own hand after he'd downed half of it, replacing it with hers. She drank as he said, "Swan, you wound me. Poison is a woman's trick and one even you're far too clever to try."

"This isn't a friendly town, and after you stole the _Viper_ from me and left me to outrun His Majesty's warships, I can't be too careful."

Ah, the reason for her fury became clear. "So you're to thank for the plump Midwinter turkey."

"She was _mine_ , Hook," Swan hissed, leaning forward. The cords of her neck stood out, her skin hardly touched by the harsh sea sun thanks to the salves and lotions she favored. "I lost _two_ hands to their gunmen and a summer squall, and you snatch her from me and waste the fruits of such a catch with _this_ nonsense?"

Killian grinned, holding up his hook. "Love, we both know I wouldn't have been much help in your loss."

"Shut up," she growled, drinking deeply from the tankard.

She slammed it on the table, causing conversation around them to quiet for a moment; Swan was a formidable woman, to be in her presence required diligence. Events of interest and entertainment usually followed a loud noise from her direction. When her eyes found his, Killian's eyebrow went up. "Perhaps we should discuss these concerns of yours --"

"Complaints, more like."

"-- in a more private setting, captain?" he asked, as if she hadn't corrected him.

Oh yes, many events of interest and enjoyable entertainment tended to follow Captain Emma Swan.

He waved off his crew as she left -- he saw her hand signals to her ladies as she went to collect her weapons from the man at the door. He began to get an idea of what she wanted as she led the way to the _Roger_ 's berth. With only the lone crewman left on watch, Killian would have to keep an eye out: Swan would have an easy time leaving with some of his treasure if that was her end goal.

Smaller and lighter on her feet, Swan got away from him at one point, easily losing him in the crowd admiring the marvels that the evening dock market provided. It wasn't until he set foot on the _Roger_ 's pier that he saw her again. "Captain Jones, this woman --"

"Easy, Leeland," Killian said, as if it were he who held a wicked blade to Swan's throat, rather than the other way around. "Swan, let the boy go, he's hardly worth the trouble of bribing the provost's guards to turning a blind eye."

"He grabbed me," she snapped.

"You're boarding my ship," he countered, tucking his thumb into his belt lazily. "The lad's the watchman, he's doing his job. Likely that loud dwarf of yours would do the same to me."

"Grumpy would just shout you to death," Swan said, releasing Leeland and letting him stumble away, rubbing at his neck.

"Aye. Leeland, be a good lad and run down to the tavern," Killian said, directing his attention to the young sailor. "I have terms to discuss with Captain Swan."

"Aye, Captain," Leeland said, but he hesitated, glancing sidelong at Swan.

Killian fought the urge to roll his eyes. Swan smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I won't kill him or steal the ship," she promised. "I won't even hurt him -- much."

"Return the hour before dawn," Killian added.

Leeland nodded, then headed down the gangplank. Killian bowed towards Swan, waving her towards the stairs.

He let her descend into the cabin first, then followed her, closing and latching the hatch behind him. His feet hardly hit the cabin floor before she was on him, roughly shoving him against the ladder and her lips fusing against his.

Gods, he missed her.

"I hate you," she hissed, shoving his heavy coat down his arms. "I hate your fucking ship, the stupid smirk on your face, the way I want to fuck you even when I ought to run you through with my sword."

She ripped at the buttons on his vest as his own hand made quick work of the frogs on her tunic. He could just rip her clothes clean from her body with his hook, but seeing as how it was technically his fault her coffers were running low, the least he could do is save her a few coppers on tailoring. "Believe me," he grunted, yanking the offending blue material from her arms. "You're hardly a stroll through the castle gardens yourself, sweetling."

"My blood's boiling, Hook, you wanna fuck or you wanna dance?"

Oh, he wanted to fuck. A good, hard fuck, one that would leave him sated and used until the next time they crossed paths -- or swords. Battle lust usually left him needy for hours after, something easily remedied by a willing lass in a seaside town such as this one, but Swan -- oh, Swan was a marvel.

Their first forray into their strange agreement had been after they'd both assaulted the same merchant ship. The ship had sunk without any plundering, two cannon balls from each attacker causing the demise. It was their first meeting -- he'd been known as Captain Jones then, she a far less battle-hardened Captain Swan.

They'd fought over who was to blame, then settled the difference with a good, hard fucking over his desk.

It continued over the years. He'd do something to piss her off -- and she always knew when it was him, something in his crew's battle pattern -- and she'd chase him across the ocean to give him what-for. She'd swipe a haul from under his nose, stay two or three steps ahead until he'd finally catch her in the New World and a tavern so newly built the walls still leaked sap.

Every time, every argument, every battle -- settled with a tumble in bed.

The only time she'd ever shown a soft side was after the naval battle that had cost him his hand. She must have heard it on the winds, because he'd hardly been laid up after the leeching -- blood poisoning was a nasty business -- before she'd found him.

It was their only meeting that hadn't ended in sex. Though the poison had been leeched from him, the fever remained. Killian had been certain that Swan's presence was a hallucination brought on by the fever. She'd stayed long enough to change his bandages and apply a poultice that the town's apothacary had never heard of. The poultice had broken his fever and when he'd woken the next morning, she was gone. The only sign of her presence was a half-empty bowl of medicine and a very confused healer's apprentice.

She was the most delightfully maddening enigma in his life.

While Killian had reminisced, Swan had vested them both of the rest of their clothes. He came back to the present when she gripped his hair, pulling his head back roughly and biting the side of his neck hard enough to sting and making him cry out. "Transylvania's a land-locked country, love," Killian said when she released him to suck on the other side of his neck. "Can't see you lurking about to become a vampire."

"Shut up," she ordered.

A dark fire burned in his belly. "Bad form," Killian said, and reached into her mass of hair, gripping hers much the same way she'd gripped his. "Ordering a man about on his own ship."

He hauled her over to his bunk. Swan's growl of protest ended in a whimper when he released her hair; she refused to sit, instead waiting for him to push her before grabbing him and moving so quickly he wasn't entirely sure how he ended up flat on his back on the floor. His back stung like he'd received forty lashes and his head pounded for a long moment, but when he opened his eyes he could only see Swan grinning viciously at him. "A Chinese warrior bought passage several months ago," she said, kneeling across his chest. Killian glanced down -- spread like this, he could see her glistening pink sex practically begging for him to taste, to touch, to _fuck_. "It was a long trip but she taught me a few things I've been dying to try."

Swan must be furious with him -- normally they didn't duel, except to see who could last longer while they hammered out details in their accords -- and as his cock hammered into her cunt.

Luckily, he had a few tricks up his sleeve as well.

He reached up, gripping her hips and rolling forward. She gasped at the unexpected movement and he used the advantage to lash her wrists to the cuffs secured at the bottom of his desk.

Ankle cuffs for prisoners too highborn for the brig, but apparently quite useful for infuriated pirate queens as well.

Swan kicked at him but he caught her legs in hand and hook, spreading her wide for him to see. He released one leg to drag his fingers through her dripping quim, dipping into her entrance briefly before teasing the bundle of nerves at its peak. Oh, she was _wet_ for him and he longed to bury himself deep inside her, but he had to teach her a lesson first.

"No one bests Captain Hook in his own cabin," he murmured.

She squirmed under his touch, but watched with stubborn curiosity as he moved to straddle her chest. "What, are you gonna fuck my mouth?" she asked. "Make me choke on your cock?"

"As lovely as that would be," he countered, taking one breast in hand and molding it around, "no, not as yet."

His cock, already engorged and painfully begging for release, lay heavy between her breasts. It was harder with the brace, but he managed it, squeezing her breasts together and forming a soft sheath for which to fuck. His hips moved slowly, just reveling in the feeling of skin on skin, as he watched Swan watch his movements. Her cheeks were flushed so he knew this was at least moderately enjoyable for her; he moved his hand enough to rub his thumb in circles around her stiff nipple and he felt her wiggle under him. "Fuck," she bit out, pulling at the chains. "Fucking _fuck_ , Hook, are you going to fuck my tits or --"

Her words got cut off when he moved, lifting suddenly and thrusting his cock into her mouth. She moaned around him, her tongue swirling around the head. He pulled out a little and she opened further. "Good girl," Killian murmured, reaching up to brace himself on the desk. He moved slowly at first. "Very good, Swan, take my cock down that pretty throat."

She opened her eyes briefly to glare at him, but somehow opened herself even wider to him, daring to go so far as to swallow around him as he sank in as far as he could go. The tears pricking at the corners of her eyes told him that once was enough, that anything more and he'd hurt her, and so he held back, fucking her mouth shallowly until he felt himself about to spill his release. He pulled out in time, his release coating her chin and dripping down the column of her throat as he breathed heavily. "Fuck."

"How is it," she rasped, her eyes still closed, "that you're the one who stole from me, and yet I'm the one chained up on the floor?"

"I like a woman on her back."

He liked her on her back. He liked this, backing away from her face and seeing her heaving breasts, stiff from arousal and the chill in the cabin. He liked the way her stomach twitched when he ran his fingers across her skin. He liked that now, even after he's taken his pleasure, she's wetter than before and whimpered when he sank his fingers inside of her.

He liked the way she cursed his ancestors when he licked her.

She gripped the legs of his desk as he devoured her, squirming in his hold and wrapping one leg around his head to hold him in her sex. Her cries were music to his ear, chanting _yes, yes, yes, oh gods,_ Killian -- he loved his true name on her lips.

He didn't let her come.

He was buying time, giving himself time to stiffen again, so he brought her to the edge again and again and again, his tongue curling up inside her only to pull out when he felt her start to tremble. He sucked on her bundle of nerves, licked her slit from back to front, and still he wouldn't let her come.

Not until he was good and ready to.

"A sixteenth," he said as he pulled away from her, reaching for the bottle of oil on his desk. "I'll allow you a sixteenth of the _Viper_ 's hold, a courtesy for running her down for me."

He wet his cock with a few drops of oil -- she was slick for him, but he wanted quick passage to her quim. "Fuck off," Swan said, biting her lip when he slid the tip of his cock inside her. "A third, and of the whole of what's left, not calculated out of whatever you've already spent."

He slid home easily, stretching her and filling her fully. Killian had to stop from groaning -- she felt heavenly, she always did, a wet, warm grip that felt like coming home. "A fourth," he said, beginning to thrust. "A fourth if you manage to oulast me."

She was wound up from his teasing and he'd come once already. He could fuck her through at least six orgasms at this rate. They'd both end up satisfied and she'd still walk away with some of his treasure.

But he misjudged her. The look in Swan's eye should have been enough as she agreed to his terms; he'd later blame himself for how distracted he was by how she looked with his essence on her skin, her lips kiss-swollen and her cheeks flush with arousal.

A beautiful force of nature, and only privately would he dare to call her his Swan.

He felt his release building, but he held back, fucking into her with abandon and praying to feel her come around him. Swan gave as good as she got, matching his thrusts with her own and holding off her own release in turn. His breath hitched at one point, his orgasm so close it was almost painful, and then he felt it -- she squeezed him and her head fell back as her mouth dropped open in a silent cry.

He won.

He fucked into her thrice more before he came, victory sweet on his lips, but then she was screaming her release under him, her _true_ orgasm gripping him like a vice and wringing every last drop out of him. Killian all but collapsed against her, the sounds of their breathing filling the cabin as their heart rates slowed. "You --" he tried, but the words stuck.

"Every woman knows how to fake one," Swan said, sounding exhausted but sated. "Even with a cock inside her."

_Bloody hell_.

He slipped out of her, silently agreeing with her whimper of protest, but gathered both the key for the cuffs and a damp cloth. Killian released her wrists, checking to make sure she wasn't injured, then gently cleaned her skin from his release. "Bloody pirate," he said.

Swan just grinned.

They dressed again quickly, then he took her down to the hold, making sure she got her fourth of the haul (though he was certain she pocketed a few extra pieces; he'd repay the favor another time). He even played the gentleman, walking her to her own ship, the _Painted Juniper_ , to ensure no one tried to get too curious about her parcel.

Her ship was a bit more active than his, but he suspected they were in port only to resupply briefly. "Until next time, Captain Hook," Swan said as she stepped onto the gangplank.

Killian bowed again. "The pleasure was mine, Captain Swan."

A corner of her mouth lifted, and he watched her step up onto the deck. Her shoulders set and Killian grinned as he walked away, her orders to her crew following him on his long walk back to the _Roger_.


	39. Killian x Emma x Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing off Promptstravaganza with a whopping 4 prompts combined into one:
> 
> 1\. Emma being the recipient of a threesome  
> 2\. Threesome fic with Killian being both himself and Hook  
> 3\. Killian has sensitive nipples  
> 4\. A bit of dom!Killian with banter.

Emma licked her lips, shifting slightly as two pairs of hungry blue eyes raked over her. She didn't know where to look first: Killian with his long mussed hair and modern clothes or Hook with his sea-swept short hair and the pirate's blouse that cut down practically to his navel. It felt like the second she focused too long on one, the other would make some sort of noise, a little sound of protest, commanding her immediate attention and starting the cycle over again. This was _such_ a bad idea -- horrible, really, absolutely awful idea to magically modify Jekyll's serum for her own perverse pleasure. But it would wear off eventually and, until then, Emma planned to enjoy the hell out of her terrible idea.

Even if she didn't quite know where to start.

Hook decided to take the initiative, ending their little standoff and making up Emma's mind for her. "Well, well, well... where should we start with you, love?" he murmured, stalking around her slowly, plucking at her sleeves. He pressed up against her back, his hand moving to cup her breast, his grip just the right amount of rough. His breath was hot on her ear as he growled, "Such a wicked princess to have such a sinful fantasy, don't you think?"

"Aye," Killian agreed.

He, too, walked towards her, his steps slow and measured. Emma's pulse hammered in her throat as she watched him. She stood tall, her chin jutting up in defiance as he stepped close. His chest brushed against hers, effectively sandwiching her between himself and Hook.

She could think of worse places to be right now.

Killian brought her lips to his, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth along the skin until it slipped out of reach. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, making her groan while Hook toyed with her breasts over her sweater. Killian pulled away abruptly, spinning her and pushing her into Hook's waiting embrace, while he reached down to grope her ass.

If she'd thought they would kiss the same -- the same man, just different sides of him -- she'd thought wrong. Killian's kisses were intense, but the quiet kind of intense that snuck up on you when you weren't paying attention, the kind that was overwhelming if you weren't prepared for it -- kind of like him. But Hook, Hook was an _inferno_. She'd kissed Hook before, back in the Enchanted Forest, but clearly he could blame the rum because that -- that couldn't hold a candle to the way Hook was currently working at her mouth. She felt like she was on fire, or that she would fly away any second and the only things keeping her grounded were their hands on her. Sparks flew under her skin where they touched her, Killian's roaming hand or the way he kept bumping the backs of her thighs, Hook's scruff on her chin and the easy way he tugged at her hair and where her breasts were pushed up against his chest.

They traded her between them twice more, making her dizzy from spinning and from breathtaking kisses. She almost lost track of which one held her until she opened her eyes on the last trade, seeing Killian's longer hair falling into his eyes as he gazed at her hungrily. He brought his hand up from where it rested on her hip, dragging his thumb along her jawline. "How shall we have her?" he asked, his eyes not leaving her face.

"As many times as she can take it," Hook growled, biting her earlobe.

"Naturally, but perhaps we should set some rules."

Emma shivered, secretly thrilled that they were talking about her as if she weren't here. She sucked in a breath as Hook nosed along the side of her neck, his scruff scraping along her skin and sending goosebumps rushing down her arms. "We should have her quietly," he said. "Speak only when spoken to, that sort of thing."

Killian nodded. "I think she can be a good girl. Can you be a good girl, Swan?"

She nodded, then hissed when Hook reached up and squeezed her breast a little too hard. "Yes, Killian," she said quickly, realizing her mistake.

He smiled, rewarding her with a light kiss. Hook growled, nipping the skin on her neck. "I also think," he said, moving his hand down from her breasts to flatten against her stomach, "it's a shame to have so much lovely skin covered."

Instead of agreeing out loud, Killian's hook moved fast as his lips covered hers again. Emma held back whimpers as they passed her between them again, their hooks working in tandem to shred her sweater and camisole, removing each piece and tossing them to the side. When she came back to him, Killian worked at her jeans, deftly flicking open the button as Hook swiftly pulled them down her legs. Emma stiffened, pressing up against Killian in the process, as Hook pressed his face against her panty-clad ass. Killian smirked, catching Emma's lips with his and pulling her closer.

His tongue was in her mouth when Hook bit her ass. Emma whimpered, melting into Killian a little as she heard Hook chuckle. "Not used to that, princess?" he asked, slapping one cheek for the sound she'd made. He softened the blow by massaging and squeezing her ass, making her squirm. "Never been taken here before? Should we fuck this virgin ass tonight?"

Emma moaned into Killian's mouth, nodding. She wanted whatever they could give to her. She wanted _everything_ they could give to her. "Yes, please."

Killian's hand went to her bra, fumbling with the clasp for a moment before popping it open. Emma whined when he pulled away, earning another smack on the ass. Kissing him distracted her from the other ways Hook was touching her, running his hand up and down her thighs, tracing the lines of her panties and teasing her by occasionally slipping a finger under the fabric. Killian only chuckled, sliding her bra down her arms and tossing it to the side as Hook rubbed her slit through her panties. "She's already soaked through," Hook said quietly.

"Dirty Swan, she loves this," Killian growled, catching her jaw in his fingers and kissing her hard briefly. "You love having two handsome men handling you, desperate for your body, don't you, sweetling?"

"Uh-huh," Emma managed, breathless from their hands on her skin.

"Good girl," he said softly.

His kisses varied, sweet to rough, as he and Hook lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Hook took the opportunity to shred her panties, tossing the scrap aside as he knelt between her splayed legs. "Such a pretty treasure I've found," he murmured, parting her folds and leaning forward to flick his tongue at her clit.

Emma bit back a cry as he ate her, remembering the rules at the last second, his tongue fucking into her as Killian moved to her breasts. Killian sucked and nibbled at her nipples, leaving little love bites along the soft mounds. Hook was relentless, alternating between sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue. Emma writhed under all the attention, a plea just at the tip of her tongue, but she just wanted to _come_ already. She didn't want to be punished or denied that high, not when she was so strung out on the feeling of two mouths pleasuring her.

She almost wept when Hook slid his fingers inside her. It was a pale imitation of his -- their? -- cock, but it was _something_ to fill her, something wonderful to stretch her and ease the ache inside. Between the two of them, she flew over that edge in almost no time at all, holding in her screams as she rode Hook's face. Instead, Killian squeezed her hand in his, whispering words of praise as they drew out her orgasm with gentle licks and kisses.

She came down slowly, hardly noticing when they pulled away from her. Emma's breathing slowed and she slowly rose up out of the post-orgasm haze. When she opened her eyes, she saw that both Hook and Killian had undressed while she lay blissed out on the bed. Her mouth went dry and part of her scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all -- they were identical, after all, it wasn't like she'd never seen him naked before.

But there was something about having two powerful chests covered in scars and thick hair, two well-muscled arms, two sets of cut abs, and two cocks standing proudly at attention that made her weak with want.

She knew what he could do with one cock. Only in her wildest fantasies had she ever thought what two of him could do. And she was about to find out.

They rolled her over, getting her up on her hands and knees; Hook knelt in front of her, slowly pumping his erection while she felt Killian kneel behind her. Emma bit her lip when he stroked her swollen flesh, still sensitive from round one. She licked her lips, focusing instead on Hook's fingers wrapped around his cock, the red tip swollen and leaking precum already. "I trust you know what to do with one of these, princess," Hook said, and when she glanced up she saw that he watched her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Emma jutted her chin out again. "Yes, Captain," she said, even as her voice wavered from the feeling of Killian's fingers slipping inside her.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," Killian commented, his voice easy as he fucked her with his fingers. "Remind me to request that next time."

"Am I allowed to say more than yes or no?" Emma asked, pouting a little as he pulled out. She received another smack on the ass for the question and her answer all at the same time; over the mild sting she felt the wetness his fingers had left behind.

"We'll discuss terms later, love. I believe you have a task to attend to," Killian said and she heard the grin in his voice.

Emma hardly had Hook's cock in her mouth before she felt Killian push into her. She tried not to, but she couldn't quite help the moan that slipped out. He just felt so good, he went so much deeper when he filled her from behind. Hook didn't seem to mind that she'd made a sound, his hand going to her hair while she sucked him. She bobbed her head, her hand coming to grip what wouldn't fit in her mouth, trying to time it with Killian's thrusts.

But Hook had other ideas. He wouldn't let her have control, instead using his hold in her hair to control her movements. It took a moment for Emma to catch on and when he started fucking her mouth, his hips rolling under her, she allowed herself to relax. She pushed into Killian's thrusts, squeezing herself around him and relishing the throaty groan she pulled from him. She felt another orgasm slowly building and worked on Hook faster, hoping to bring them both with her over the edge. She rolled her tongue around the head of Hook's cock, tasting the salt and moaning again around him. Hook hissed from the vibrations. "Should -- punish you," he bit out. "But -- _gods_ \-- that feels too good, love."

Emma hollowed her cheeks when he pulled her head back and he hissed again. "Fuck -- switch, _now_."

She whined as Killian pulled out and Hook pulled away. She dropped her head, the bed dipping around her as they switched places; her knees trembled, her core aching, throbbing in time with her racing heart, desperate for one of them to just let her _come_ already. She heard Killian's light laugh and lifted her head. He was on his back, slipping under her. "Hello, love," he said, reaching up to bring her down for a kiss.

"Hi," she murmured against him, nipping his lips.

She sucked in a breath when Hook entered her. He was less gentle than Killian had been, not giving her much time to adjust before pulling back and thrusting hard. Emma reached up to brace herself on Killian's chest, her fingers brushing one of his nipples. She felt him gasp against her and grinned even as he tried to kiss her harder. "I think I found something..." she murmured, hissing when Hook smacked her ass again.

She leaned forward, kissing her way down the line of Killian's throat to his chest. She felt him moving towards a similar destination, each of them catching a nipple in their mouths at almost the same time. Emma smiled to herself when she realized their tongue patterns were similar. Maybe he was following her lead -- she would swirl her tongue clockwise, so would he. She bit down lightly, he returned the favor. She reached up to roll his other nipple between her fingers, his fingers caught her swaying breast and flicked across the hard, pebbled skin.

She savored the groans he made, the little whines and pleas as she discovered this new side of her pirate.

She bit down a bit harder than she meant to, a moment or two after switching, when Hook slapped her ass again. She twisted her head around to glare at him -- she hadn't made a sound, Killian was the one being noisy -- but he was nodding towards Killian's bobbing cock. "Suck him," he ordered.

Killian slid down a bit more to give her access. She gripped the base, swirling her tongue around the head and tasting herself mixed with the precum leaking from his slit. She opened wider, taking him deep and coming back up slowly. She traced the fat vein with her tongue, teased the spot just under the head she knew he liked --

Hook's finger pressed against her ass.

Emma paused, twisting to watch as Killian opened a bottle of lube -- where had that come from? -- and helped coat Hook's fingers. He reached up and drizzled some between her spread cheeks; the gel was cool and she shivered when she realized what they were doing. "Relax, Swan," Killian said soothingly, closing the bottle and tossing it to the side.

Hook was gentle, massaging her until it didn't hurt when he slid one finger inside. Killian ran his fingers up one of her thighs and down the other, trying to get her to relax. "Fuck her," he told Hook. "Slow, like, get her used to it."

Emma's eyes fluttered shut, heat flooding her when she realized what he meant. She leaned into it as Hook started to fuck her, both his cock and his fingers thrusting into her. It surprised her to realize that she didn't hate it -- it felt _good_ to have everything filled. It felt _good_ to be stretched, even as Hook slid a second finger inside her. She closed her lips over Killian's cock again, pumping the base as she licked and laved the tip.

Then she felt Killian's tongue on her clit.

She released him with a gasp, looking down to watch Killian tonguing her while Hook fucked her. Emma dropped to her elbows, unable to stop the whine as Hook picked up the pace. "Want to see you come," Killian said, then went back to licking her.

Hook grunted. "Come on, love, squeeze me good."

Emma clung to the sheets, warmth flooding her until it peaked when Killian's lips closed over her clit and _sucked_. She cried out as she pushed back against Hook, feeling him fucking her through it until he finally slipped out.

He kissed the small of her back as she breathed hard and Killian slid out from under her. "Good girl," Hook praised.

Emma nodded, then tried to sit up. She felt a little lightheaded, definitely used, and just a bit boneless. Killian helped her, kissing her slowly when she was upright. "How do you want us, darling?" he murmured against her.

She bit her lip, pulling back and looking between them. Functionally, they were the same -- the same man, the same body -- but definitely _different_. "I want Hook in front," she said.

She looked up at Killian, hoping he understood: he would be more gentle, making her feel better about it being her first time with anal. Hook was wilder, she could handle that the regular way. Something lit in Killian's eyes as he got her meaning, and he grinned crookedly. "As you wish."

Emma looked at Hook, who wore not quite a pout but was definitely unhappy at the thought of not being able to "fuck her virgin ass". She smiled, scooting over towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned up close to his ear. "Besides," she whispered, "you didn't get the little treat he did."

"You're being very bad, Swan," Hook muttered as she licked her way down his neck. "Bad girls get punished."

She giggled at that and he swatted at her ass anyway. "I think I've been punished enough today," she told him, then captured his lips in a kiss.

She moved to straddle him, feeling Killian come up behind her. Emma rose up onto her knees and sank down onto Hook's cock, relishing the stretch. She felt Killian massaging her ass as Hook fucked up into her, then heard Killian fussing with the lube. She tensed up a little in anticipation, but Hook reached up to cradle the back of her neck. "Relax, sweetling," he said, his voice hoarse. "We'll make it so good for you."

He laid back, bringing Emma with him, hips rolling up into her easily to keep her distracted. She reached between them, toying with his nipples the same way she'd done to Killian and grinning when he cursed. His thrusts jerked, less controlled than before, and it thrilled her to have this little bit of power over him.

Killian's cock nudged her ass and Emma took a deep breath to stay relaxed. She knew it would hurt if she tensed up. Hook slowed, slipping his tongue into Emma's mouth while Killian slowly pushed into her.

It took a few minutes, a few agonizingly slow minutes of pushing and holding, pulling out for more lube, then finally sinking in to the hilt.

And Emma felt like she was going to come apart at the seams.

"Someone has to move," she said, her voice shaking. "Please, someone start --"

Hook moved first and it was the _strangest_ sensation, feeling two cocks at once, feeling so _full_. In a way she could feel them pressing towards each other, pushing layers of sensitive tissues together, but she wondered if they could feel it too. She wondered what this felt like for them. She trembled, mostly hanging on for the ride as Killian started to move too. Her nerves felt like they were on fire, like they were going to burn her up.

Hook’s voice was in her ear, murmuring praise, telling her how good she felt, how hot she was, how slick and welcoming her heat was for his cock. Killian was right behind her, muttering about how _tight_ she was, how he couldn’t last long with her strangling his cock like this.

It was too much, both of them at once was so much, so overwhelming, so --

Emma screamed when she came, vaguely aware of each of them shouting her name hoarsely before she blacked out.

* * *

 

Hook was gone by the time she came to. Emma felt cleaner, like they'd cared for her before Hook had vanished; she also felt sore, and honestly another hour or seven of sleep wouldn't be amiss either. She turned under the covers, finding Killian perched at the edge of the bed and watching her worriedly. "Here, love, drink," he said, handing her a bottle of water.

"How long?" she asked when she drank a good third and handed the bottle back.

"Half an hour. The serum wore off not long ago."

Emma scooted over. "Cuddles," she said with a slight whine in her voice; she didn't feel up to words or sentences with more than two syllables right now.

Killian just grinned, slipping under the covers with her and holding her. "It's the strangest feeling, having both sets of memories for that event," he said quietly. "Remembering it, I can feel myself in two places at once; you're a bloody marvel."

She nodded. "Thank you," she said, just as quietly. It had been her fantasy -- ever since she'd had him and Hook in the same cabin in their trip to the past -- and he'd been so good to agree to it.

She'd kind of been worried that he would punch his other self in the face. Again.

Killian kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Emma," he said. "You know there's very little I wouldn't do to make you happy."

She grinned at that. "Oh?" she asked, her voice teasing. "I thought it was 'I'd do anything for you, Swan', and now there's very little you wouldn't do?"

"A man has to draw the limit somewhere."

"Well, now you _have_ to tell me."

"Insufferable woman," Killian grumbled, cutting off her next quip with a kiss.

Emma moaned into it, sinking back into their mountain of pillows. "You love me for it," she murmured when they parted.

"Aye, love," he agreed and she saw that love sparkling in his eyes. "That I do."


	40. Killian Worships Emma (sequel to ch. 34)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted: "For your follower prompts, would you perhaps feel the inclination to write Killian making good on his promise? : “One of these days, I’m going to touch every part of this lovely body. I’m going to catalog every sound every patch of skin elicits from you. I’m going to lash you to the bedposts and worship you as you deserve, wring every drop of pleasure from you until you can’t bear to take any more.” ;)"

Emma’s hands twist, reaching to grab on to _something_ – the rungs on the headboard, the silk ropes that keep her in place. She needs some sort of anchor, something to keep her grounded, something to remind her that she’s more than singing nerves and damp skin and blood pounding in her ears.

Killian’s done more than he promised, running his tongue along her arms, her sides, her legs. She’d learned that her knees are ticklish and that Killian gives excellent foot massages. He’d kissed every freckle on her body and she had no idea there were so many sprinkled across her back. His tongue slid almost lazily down her spine and though she’d squirmed at the thought, she didn’t completely hate it when it teased along the cleft of her ass.

He’d left numerous love bites and marks along her skin and his mouth is currently working on another at the juncture of her hip.

He’d counted every single sound she made, every whimper, every gasp, every plea for more.

He knows her body now, knows it better than she ever could, learning how to play her like a finely tuned instrument. His hand traces a path up her side, his chuckle warm and soothing on her thigh as she squirms under him.

She’s wound tight, ready to burst.

He’s been at this for more than an hour and he hasn’t let her come yet.

“My lovely Swan,” Killian murmurs, leaving a lazy loop-de-loop in his wake as he licks his way across her body to her mound. “My beautiful lass, is this where you need me?”

Emma groans, beyond words at this point. She shifts her legs, parting them further and giving him wider access to her center. Killian chuckles again, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder. She whimpers when his nose brushes against her curls, his breath warm on her core. She feels his breath against her entrance and she clenches without thinking, desperate for something to fill her, to ease the tension in her body, to make her see stars.

His tongue darts out, flicking at her clit. Emma tenses, inhaling sharply. “Please,” she breathes, her tone bordering on a whine. “ _Please_ let me come.”

She _hurts_ , she’s so tightly wound.

Killian’s tongue drags slowly up her slit, almost as if he’s savoring her taste. He swirls around her slit once, twice, then slides back down to her dripping entrance where he teases her with just the tip before slipping inside.

Emma’s toes curl and she writhes under his gentle ministrations, hips thrusting up against his face as he laps at her core. She pulls at her restraints, desperate to be released so she can hold him, pull him up her body and sheathe him inside her. His fingers slip inside her while his tongue works at her clit, but it’s not _enough_.

She needs _him_ , needs the thick drag of his cock, needs the sensation of fullness that only comes from the feeling of him inside her.

Emma tries to form the words, tries to beg, tries to tell him she needs _more_ ; but every time she opens her mouth the words are swallowed up by another gasp, another moan, another jumbled attempt at his name.

She can feel her release imminent, just a hair’s breadth away from tumbling over the edge, but he _stops_ and she _whines_.

It _hurts_.

Emma feels his lips kissing another path up her body, leaving streaks of her own wetness behind as his scruff scrapes lightly against her skin. She feels the tip of his cock nudge against her entrance and she bucks her hips up in a futile attempt to take him in. “Is this what you need, love?” Killian murmurs as he covers her body with his.

“ _Please_ ,” she whispers, not caring in the least how desperate she sounds.

He slants his mouth against hers, swallowing her gasp as he shifts his hips enough to slide into her welcoming body.

She almost comes on the spot.

He ruts against her, gentle at first as he rides her; sometimes she wonders if he believes she’s made of glass, a fragile thing that might break if he’s too rough with her. But either she makes another desperate sound or he decides that it’s too much, because after another minute he picks up speed.

She loves when he forgets himself, when he breaks free of his self-imposed restraints and they tumble wildly together into bliss.

It happens again as he braces himself on his blunted arm and slides his hand under her ass, giving himself more leverage as he shifts from riding her to full-on fucking into her.

She doesn’t last long after that, coming hard. If she’s had a more intense orgasm in her life, she’s sad to have forgotten it – it never seems to end, waves upon waves of pleasure crashing over her, her nerves singing loud and her screams echoing louder around their bedroom. Killian fucks her through it, only letting himself come when her body stops spasming and her screams die. She feels him come inside her, his cock pulsing almost in time with the aftershocks of her own orgasm as he spills himself inside her.

Killian sags against her, breathing hard. Emma barely clings to consciousness, worn out from all of the attention. “Need to clean you up,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her damp skin.

She groans weakly when he slips out of her. “Just untie me,” she says. “Sleep first, clean later.”

He chuckles at that, doing as she bids. He kisses her wrists as he frees her, checking her for any sore spots. “Rest easy, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She’s sure he’ll be back, but she misses it, falling into an easy sleep before he even leaves the room.


	41. Lost in the Wilderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [If Colin could stop looking so goshdang attractive and ruining my life that'd be great.](http://initiala.tumblr.com/post/148861148411/colinodonoghue-colin-in-what-still-remains-x)

The tree was bumpy and might leave marks on her back, but she didn’t care. His beard scratched at her cheeks, her chin, her lips, and would definitely leave marks, but she didn’t care. His hands fumbled at zippers and buttons – layers and layers, all of them required to stay dry and warm this far out in the Rockies this late in the year, none of them at all convenient for the activity they had in mind.

She did care about that.

“Pants,” she mumbled against his lips. “Fuck the rest, unzip your pants.”

“Want to touch you,” he rumbled, following her orders anyway.

“Later.”

Later might not be for days yet, until they could find real shelter and not just what either of them could rig up out of branches and pine boughs. Later would come after they’d both had a shower, eaten something they hadn’t had to kill and skin themselves. Later would involve a real bed, not fumbling against a tree in an urgent need to reassure each other that they were still alive, they were okay, they still had each other.

The rifle Killian had used to take down the rabid bear lay half-forgotten on the ground, but she knew neither one of them were completely focused on trying to fuck each other’s brains out. They’d been out here too long to completely lose their sense.

Emma practically ripped her own zipper in the process, but managed to shove her jeans down and get one boot off, one leg free, enough for Killian to lift it up and over his hip to give him better access. He slid home easily, a hot slide that had her gripping his shoulders until her knuckles were white – without the layers, she would have left nail marks deep in his skin.

It was rough and primal, this need to sate carnal desires in the wake of nearly dying. Killian’s hands cupped her ass as he drove his cock into her again and again, trying to save her more scratches from the bark; but Emma didn’t care, she didn’t care, she just wanted to feel him and forget how hopeless the situation seemed. She wanted to fly high, she wanted to forget how it felt to be so lost and afraid, she wanted to submerge herself in the waves of pleasure coursing through her veins as she ground herself against his body.

She cried out when she came, not caring about how loud she was, there was no one around for miles and anyway it might scare off more predators. She felt Killian pulse wetly inside of her as she trembled in his arms, aftershocks rippling through her body. He sagged, leaning them both back against the tree; their breaths came hard, little puffs of air visible in the chilly air, but her skin felt pleasantly warm in the wake of their tryst.

“I’ll get you home, Emma,” she heard Killian mumble. “We’ve still got the compass, we’ve still got each other. I promise you we’ll find a way to get you home.”

She didn’t know what to say, her brain still foggy from the sex.

They’d been out here nearly a week, foraging and fumbling the whole way, but Killian had never given in to despair like she had. And somehow she knew he’d do his best to keep his promise, or die in the attempt.


	42. Silly, Sloppy Drunk Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deathbycaptainswan wanted CS drunk and trying to keep quiet while having sex at the loft.

Trying to walk up the stairs feels more like walking the deck of his ship during a storm. His foot slips on one of the steps and they both erupt into giggles, furiously shushing each other even as they stumble up to the landing in front of her parents’ front door.

Emma sighs happily as Killian’s lips meet hers – he tastes like rum and smells like the inside of the smoky bar they’ve just left and she’s pretty positive she’s no better; but honestly it’s the best, most comfortable smell in the world because it’s underlaid by the soap Granny provides at the inn and Killian’s own musky scent and Emma just wants to tuck herself up against him and smell him forever.

She _must_ be drunk, because normal people don’t think about smelling their boyfriend forever.

Right?

She kind of doesn’t care.

She stumbles back as he leans a little too far forward and her back meets the door hard. They start giggling again even as Killian asks, “Are you alright, love?”

“Perfect, actually,” she whispers, reaching up to kiss him again.

Her head hits the door with a dull knocking sound as Killian pins her against the door, his kisses sloppy and his hand dancing around the idea of untucking her shirt from her pants. She really, really wants him to untuck her shirt, feel his calloused fingers against her skin, and _damn it_ why didn’t she wear a skirt tonight? Emma groans into his mouth as her own hands slip into his back pockets, squeezing his ass and pulling him in closer.

His hips rut into hers and she can feel his desire as well as she feels her own.

The inn had been further away than the loft. Killian had insisted on escorting her home safely.

They should have just gone straight to the inn.

_Damn it._

“Come in,” Emma whispers against his lips.

Killian tries to protest even as his lips blaze a trail along her jaw and down her neck. “Swan, your parents –”

“– are asleep, or should be, and we just have to be quiet.”

She really, really hopes they’re over this whole ‘let’s wait up for Emma and see how her date went’ thing by now. They’ve been better, or at least more discrete about staying up, but it’s well past two in the morning. Her brother should have been fed and would be asleep again for at least another hour or so. They should be okay.

The loft is quiet and dark when they enter, the curtain that hides her parents’ bed and Neal’s cradle drawn for privacy. Emma leads Killian up the stairs to her bed, stifling another burst of giggles as he trips again. They pass Henry’s empty bed and all but collapse onto her own as the bedsprings screech in protest. There’s a sound from Neal below and they freeze for a moment; when he doesn’t cry and her parents don’t stir, Emma breathes a quiet sigh of relief before getting down to business. “Naked,” she whispers, sitting up and shrugging out of her jacket. “Now.”

Killian is only too happy to comply and in a few moments there’s a heap of clothing on the floor and he’s pressing her into the mattress, his mouth hot on hers and the soft hair on his chest tickling her breasts. They somehow make it under the covers, giggling again as they elbow each other and knock heads as they try to maneuver themselves into a comfortable position. Killian groans when her hand finds his cock, lightly stroking and squeezing it. “Shhh,” Emma chides softly as he helps lift her leg over his hip.

She has to kiss him to keep them both quiet when he pushes in, his movements clumsier than normal – though she doesn’t feel like she could do any acrobatics right now either.

“Gods, you feel so good, Swan,” Killian rumbles in her ear as he starts a sloppy thrust. She stifles another laugh – he’s not very good at whispering when he’s drunk. “So warm, love, so soft… gods, you’re so soft…”

“Yeah, well, good thing,” Emma mutters, turning to nip his earlobe. She grabs his ass again, helping pull him in closer. “You’re really hard.”

“You like it when I’m hard.”

“I kinda like it.”

“I think you kind of really like it.”

“I think you’re kinda really drunk, Captain.”

“And you’re none so sober yourself, Swan.”

He rolls them and she bites her lip to hold in the moan – she loves the feeling of him on top of her, the extra weight so soothing compared to the sparks of pleasure licking up her spine as he moves inside her. Emma kisses the side of his neck, running her tongue down to the juncture where it meets his shoulder, the spot that if she presses just like that – Killian’s breathy groan sounds so loud in her ear, but she loves it when she can get him sounding so completely wrecked.

He moves faster as he mumbles incoherent dirty talk in her ear – she knows it’s dirty because she catches words like ‘cunny’ and ‘sweet quim’ and other words that would make her blush if she weren’t already flushed from drinking and lust. She wants to tell him to slow down because the bedsprings are getting kind of loud and she wants to tell him to keep his voice down because he seriously  _sucks_ at keeping his voice down when he’s drunk, but she also wants him never to stop. Talking would mean she has to stop sucking a hickey onto his collarbone and she’s really more interested in marking him as _hers_ right now and –

Emma sucks in a breath, lifting her legs up and hooking her ankles together around his hips. God, she’s almost there, that high almost in reach. “So close,” she whispers in his ear, her voice tinged with a whine. “Almost, _please_ Killian –”

Killian growls and kisses her roughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he fucks her harder into the mattress. Emma’s hands find his hair, strands slipping through her sloppy grip as she tries to hold on for the ride; she doesn’t care that the bed sounds too loud and forgets why she should even care at all when she’s finally, _finally_ coming, Killian’s kisses swallowing her screams.

She knows he follows her into bliss when he slows, his body tense and jumpy when she touches him gently. He sags against her, then has enough awareness to roll off with a groan; she curls up against his side, dimly aware that she should clean up but her body doesn’t seem to want to comply. She figures she’ll get to it in a few moments, content to enjoy the pleasant afterglow of orgasm…

* * *

 

The sun’s too bright when she opens her eyes, confused and aware that Killian was laying half on top of her. The blinds at Granny’s are good about keeping out most of the light, thick blackout ones made for a seaside town facing the east.

Then she smells eggs – her stomach turns a bit at the smell; she’s more of a “give me the greasiest, carb-loaded fast food crap you have” kind of hangover girl – and hears the toaster pop, and her baby brother screeching his happy noise and _oh fuck_.

Last night comes back in a rush, particularly as she shifts Killian’s weight so she can breathe better and feels his cock at full attention even as he’s dead asleep to the world.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ –

Her mom’s talking quietly – either to Dad or to Neal – and then there’s the sound of something on the stove. In another minute or so, the smell of bacon wafts up to the loft and Emma gets up as quickly as she can manage. She throws on the first thing she sees – Killian’s shirt and her underwear – and stumbles down to the bathroom, ignoring her parents’ surprised looks as she bolts the door behind her and proceeds to regret every single drink she’d had the night before.

There’s not much in her stomach, so she mostly spends the next ten minutes alternating dry-heaving or lying miserably on the bathroom floor. “Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice comes through the door. “Sweetheart, open the door, I have a glass so you can take something.”

Emma doesn’t even bother getting up, just kind of rolls over to the door to open it. “Thanks,” she says hoarsely as she accepts the glass.

Mary Margaret’s gaze is motherly. “So, late night?” she asks, her false cheer a dead giveaway.

Busted.

“Yeah,” Emma says, laying back and resigning herself to a lecture about bringing boys home and fucking them senseless under her mother’s roof – nevermind she’s almost thirty and her mother’s of a similar age and there have been _plenty_ of nights that Emma’s had to put her headphones on so she doesn’t get scarred for life by her own parents.

“Is Hook still asleep?” Mary Margaret asks.

“Yeah.”

“Will he be staying for breakfast, or should we get you cleaned up and clear out the bathroom for his turn?”

Emma snorts, despite her intense desire to have the floor swallow her right up. Killian’s liver was made of steel. “Please, he’ll be just fine for food.”

Mary Margaret hums, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I imagine so. Well, your father’s much calmer now than he was, so we’ll at least make it through breakfast before anyone’s blood is shed.”

“I don’t suppose reminding him I’m a grown woman with a son will convince him to leave off defending my honor?”

“You know your father,” Mary Margaret replied cheerfully, then closed the door to leave Emma in her hungover, thoroughly mortified solitude.

Yeah, she does know her father. And she’ll be very lucky if all they escape with today is a lecture.


	43. Creampie Cunnilingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anon wanted "Killian and Emma haven't slept together yet, and Killian keeps telling Emma that it's because he's a gentleman, but SHE thinks it's because he's ashamed of his stump, but it's ACTUALLY Killian nervous to... perform... because he hasn't slept with anyone since Milah." and I added a little kink for funsies.
> 
> Pretend that airship never interrupted them :p

He can tell she’s frustrated with his excuse. After all, they’ve traveled through time, crossed realms, overcome death itself, surely they can cross this final barrier in their relationship together?

“Gentleman, love.”

If he’s honest with himself, he’s growing weary of it himself. The words fall from his lips like lead and shame churns in his gut when he sees the brief slip in her mask – the flash of hurt, quickly replaced by guilt, and then her mask slips back into place.

She tries to put on a good face, but he knows her. Emma Swan might have a good sense about lies, but she’s quite terrible at telling them herself.

“You know I love you no matter what, right?” she asks on the walk back to the house.

Her hand warms his own as the linked pair swings gently between them. Killian’s eyebrow ticks up as he glances down at her. “Of course, love,” he says, mildly perturbed at the question. “I feel the same.”

They come to a stop at the front gate – their white picket fence life, just a step away from becoming a reality. Emma takes his hook in her other hand and his gaze drops to watch her thumb gently polish the curve of it. “Hey,” she says softly and his eyes meet hers. “This doesn’t bother me.” The slight movement of his maimed arm tells him what _this_ is. “It’s never bothered me. In fact, I –” She brings his hook up to chest level and gently caresses it, a lazy, sinful smile on her face. “– I like the hook.”

Seeing her with that wicked look on her face and the delicate, sensual way she’s touching the weapon on his arm drives all the blood in his body south; it takes a moment for his brain to catch up, to register her meaning. “Swan, that’s not – I grant you that it’s not a pretty sight, but believe me when I tell you that what lies under my hook is not –”

She looks as if she’s about to interrupt him, though likely with something _slightly_ more eloquent than  _“Then why won’t you fuck me?!”_ , but regardless, if he’s to come clean about this aspect of their relationship then he doesn’t wish to go shouting about it in the streets. With a brief nod towards the house, he walks with her through the gate and up the porch stairs, waiting for her to unlock the house so they can step inside. “Okay, so what is it?” Emma asks as soon as the door is shut behind them.

He notices she’s standing with her arms akimbo; Killian sighs inwardly as he realizes he’ll be in for a fight if he isn’t careful. “Just – a man has his pride, love,” he says, willing her to be patient and understanding. “And the last thing I wish to do is fumble about like a cabin boy entertaining his first doxy.”

“If your analogy is what I think it is –”

“Emma.” Killian uses his captain’s voice and something in her recognizes the authoritative tone and backs down. “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve wished we had more time. It’s been a very long time since I’ve lain with someone I care about so deeply, I wanted to do it proper. Slowly. Getting to know one another.”

Her face softens at that. “Oh, Killian. You have to know I don’t care about that.”

“But _I_ do,” he says, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. “You’re not some meaningless rut to me, Emma. I love you and you deserve more than a quick roll in the hay.” She steps forward, her hands reaching out and running down his arms soothingly. “I meant it when I said it had been a long time since I was with anyone I cared for. After –” He doesn’t say her name, feeling that Milah’s presence would not help the mood. “She’s the last, Emma. There hasn’t been anyone else, at all. Not until you.”

_And no one else, ever again._

Emma’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. He sees her mind working as she absorbs this information. Her eyes meet his again. “When we went back and I – you seemed pretty insistent. The other you.”

Killian rubs an itchy spot under his ear. “Aye, well… I believe that falls under ‘not until you’, but if you must know… I made quite a habit of paying off the ladies of the evening to speak of nothing but my prowess. My crew, they had a habit of purchasing services for me. And all of them reminded me of _her_. So I did things the easy way. No one the wiser.”

Her expression softens further and her hand slips into his. “Well… I guess if you’re not ready, we can just, like…”

Her voice drifts off and Killian closes the space between them. “Do you remember what I said about living your life during the crises?” he asks softly, pulling her snug against him.

He sees the way her eyes change when she feels his hard cock through the layers of their clothes. “But there’s not a crisis right now,” Emma points out, her voice low and hopeful.

“No indeed, there is not. So, I propose…” Killian takes a step, and then another, slowly walking her backwards to the living room, punctuating his words with soft kisses. “I propose that we take full advantage of this moment, live our lives a little, and take things slow.”

He feels her grin against his lips. “Okay.”

He likes the taste of her laughter, the feel of her pressing against him and writhing as their kisses grow more intense. She makes the most delicious sounds when his tongue sweeps along the seam of her lips, dipping in as they part and sliding along hers. Her legs hit the arm of the couch and her laughter turns into shrieks as she falls backwards, and Killian gladly follows her down, down, pressing her into the couch with lips and hips and quiet reassurances about her family’s whereabouts.

Her leg hitches up and over his back, pulling him further against her and he feels her hand slip, trying to find some part of him to hold on to as he loses himself in the taste of her kiss.

Emma grinds her hips up into his, her moans sounding breathless and desperate to his ears. “Less clothes,” she gasps. “Way less clothes.”

Their boots end up on the floor in a hapless mess and Killian’s brain comes to a complete halt when Emma shimmies out of both her jeans and panties in one fell swoop. She catches him staring and smirks, walking over to him with a sway in her hips that severely tested his resolve to take things slow. She drops to her knees in front of him, batting his hand away and undoing his belt and his fly on her own. Killian comes to enough to realize what she’s planning half a second before she does it – she palms his cock, a very satisfied look on her face as she draws it from his trousers and gives it a few experimental pumps.

Her tongue darts out to lick the tip.

He has to bite his lip, thinking of anything other than the fact that Emma Swan is on her knees in front of him with his cock in her mouth. All coherent thought flies from his mind as she hollows her cheeks and _sucks_ as she slowly pulls back. He’s close, he’s desperately close and he doesn’t want to come down her throat just yet. “ _Emma_ –”

She hums around him and his knees buckle; she releases him and the coquettish glint in her eye coupled with the innocent way she bites her lower lip sends him straight onto the floor with her. Killian presses her into the rug with some sort of primal growl, an ancient _need_ to feel her against his skin and hear her cries for release overpowering him; he ruts his hips into hers as his cock drags along her sopping folds, her moans low and needy and a breathy plea on her lips. He knows when the tip of his cock finds her clit when she whimpers, her hands scrambling for purchase as she thrusts up into him, desperate to feel it again. He swivels his hips slightly, catching her at a different angle this time and he swears she growls in frustration just before her hands seize his arse and pulls him flush against her.

They both freeze for a moment as they realize that his cock has caught in her entrance. “Swan,” he whispers, unsure how to proceed. He’s far gone enough that any thought of slow has vanished, but if she doesn’t –

“ _Please_. God, please, I need to feel you,” she says and he fuses his lips to hers as he fulfills her request.

She’s hot and wet and he swears she’s intentionally squeezing him in time with his thrusts. He loses himself in the feel of her, bracing himself on his forearms as he drives his cock into her again and again; his orgasm takes him by surprise, pleasure shooting up his spine as his balls contract and he spills himself inside of her.

Killian all but collapses on top of her, breathing hard and sweating through his layers of shirts and his jacket. “Bloody hell.”

Emma makes a noise of agreement, but there’s a note of frustration there and he lifts his head to see her brow knit in chagrin. “Did you –” he starts, but she’s shaking her head and hot shame floods through him.

He slips from her, sitting back on his haunches and looking over her critically. Still in her sweater and jacket, her legs splayed on either side of him, he sees her watching him cautiously as his focus narrows in on her swollen sex, pink and glistening and his seed dripping out of her. “Well,” Killian says mildly as he adjusts his position, “that’s easily remedied.”

“Killian, what are you doing?” Emma asks warily as he lays between her legs, ignoring his cock’s protests at being pressed into the cold floor as he encourages her to lift her legs onto his shoulders.

“Making up for a grievous error,” he informs her, gripping her hips and lowering his mouth to her core.

Her head falls back as her hips lift up against him. His tongue swirls around her swollen nub and her thighs tighten around his head. He dips lower, tasting their mixed essences and moaning loudly at the taste. He alternates, running lines up and down her sex with his tongue and finding all the sensitive spots that make her squirm and moan, kissing every inch of her and memorizing her cries when he sucks on her clit. “Do you know how we taste, love?” he asks when he comes up for air, his fingers slipping inside her. “Together, you and I, it tastes as I imagine the ambrosia would, every possible flavor mixed into one and all the better for knowing it’s only possible because you want me. I could taste you like this for days, weeks, flushed and wanting and filled with my essence, knowing _I_ did this to you and you _wanted_ me to.”

Emma cries out when he crooks his fingers, pressing hard as his tongue swirls and his lips suck on her clit, her legs tightening around his head and pushing him harder against her. When she comes it’s music to his ears, his name falling from her lips as she rides his face and she squeezes his fingers.

Next time, she’ll squeeze his cock. Next time, he’ll last longer than a virgin on his first trip to a brothel.

When her breathing eases and Killian pulls his fingers from her, he brings them to her lips to offer a taste. Emma gives him a wry look as she licks him clean, canting her head slightly as she says, “Not bad.”

“Food of the gods, love,” he says, and kisses her.

“Hmm, this meal needs a shower,” she murmurs and he snorts. “You don’t regret it?” she asks suddenly.

Killian pauses for a moment. He’d wanted to go slow, true. Yet part of him finds this inevitable – and after all, with how much they’ve been through, it really was about time they crossed that final barrier. They have plenty of quiet moments ahead where they can take their time about things. “No, love. I could never regret anything with you.”

Emma’s smile is brilliant as she sits up. “Care to join me for that shower?”

He feels sweaty and sticky and he agrees, even as his cock helpfully reminds him that seeing Emma Swan wet and covered in soap suds would be just the thing to prepare him to make up for his premature finish earlier.

Perhaps next time would come sooner than he expected.


	44. They Don't Teach You How Babies are Made in the Royal Navy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon wanted: "Can you write a smutty fic where the differences in birth control between the EF and storybrooke are explained. I keep having this weird plot bunny of the main EF method being pull out and Killian tries doing that with Emma during their first time but Emma keeps him in and then Killian starts worrying about fatherhood and how he didn't realize that Emma wanted another child or that she wanted to have one with him"

His fingers worked at the buttons on her blouse as his mouth latched onto a spot under her ear. Emma writhed in his arms, whimpering as his tongue pressed into her skin. He brought his hook up to pull her blouse open, revealing her black, lacy corset – _brassiere_ – and the lovely sight of her dusky nipples straining through the material. The hook’s tip caught the edge of the brassiere’s strap and he tugged lightly. “Are you particularly fond of this garment, darling?” Killian murmured against her neck.

“Kinda,” Emma said, gasping when he found a new spot to suck a mark into. “It’s expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, just before pulling hard and snapping the strap in two.

She mumbled something under her breath about old clothes but her words were soon swallowed by moans as the sharp tip of his hook made quick work of the rest of her brassiere and he pulled her blouse from her arms. Killian spun her in his arms, his lips fusing to the other side of her neck as he lost himself in finally, _finally_ being allowed to make love to her as she deserved.

“Are you going to give me hickeys everywhere?” Emma asked as she pulled away enough to unzip his vest and undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

“Possibly.”

“You’re _im_ possible.”

“ _You_ love it,” he countered, but some of the heat was lost as she palmed his erection through too many layers of clothes.

She just grinned, undoing his belt and the fastenings of his trousers and reaching in to give his cock several firm, smooth strokes. Killian groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder as warmth spread out along his hips and licked up his spine. He gently thrust into her hand, silently begging for more friction, more pressure, more _her_.

He shifted his head, latching on to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. If she already thought he would be leaving love bites everywhere, then he damn well intended to follow through.

Clothes continued to be shed, Emma’s skin continued to gain new red marks. Killian slowly walked her backwards to the bed, her bare thighs hitting the mattress and her lovely arse falling onto the quilt and they were both falling, falling and giggling and kissing and touching and simply reveling in _being_ together, _finally_. He crawled up the length of her body, covering her, the tip of his cock nudging her damp curls and he groaned at the feel. “I can’t wait to be buried in you sweetness,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Why wait?” Emma breathed against his lips.

“I want to take care of you, love.”

“But what if I want you in me? Right –” She tensed and Killian laughed in surprise when she rolled them, settling easily across his thighs and looming over him with smug victory. “Now?”

She punctuated with a roll of her hips, grinding her slick heat against him. Killian’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body reacting unconsciously as he thrust back up against her. Emma slowly swiveled her hips, circling and pressing down and quietly, persistently driving him mad. “Or now?” she whispered.

He felt her shift, felt the ends of her hair tickle and drape across his chest as she leaned over him, never ceasing her terrible pelvic assault on his cock. Sparks of pleasure bloomed and spread at every point she touched him. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her hands gripped his shoulders and her breath was as warm as her lips against his ear as she breathed, “How about now?”

“Bloody hell, woman.” The last of his resistance crumbled – in truth, he had hardly any when it came to her – and he rolled them again. Her squeak of surprise turned into giggles as he peppered more kisses on her cheeks, her neck, her collarbones. Killian shifted, positioning his cock at her entrance. He could feel her fluttering already, wet and sensitive and ready for him. “How about now?” he asked.

“Please.”

Her body hardly resisted him and her core gripped his cock like a warm embrace. “Gods, you’re perfect,” Killian groaned, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder as he started to move.

Emma’s legs shifted up and over his hips; he felt her cross her ankles at his back, pulling him in deeper and using him as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. He felt hot all over and he would gladly melt into her if it meant never being without this kind of pleasure again.

He wanted to crow from the rooftops that Emma Swan was _his_ and that she allowed him the privilege of sharing her bed, her body, her heart.

Her sighs of pleasure turned into urgent gasps when he shifted the angle slightly. Killian felt the beginnings of his own orgasm licking at the base of his spine. “Emma–” he grunted, his tone warning when the words wouldn’t come.

“Almost – Killian, so close, please –”

Perhaps he could hold off, give her the pleasure she sought and deserved before his own release. Her legs held him fast and her body surged against his with a sense of urgency that only came on the precipice of orgasm. He drove into her once, twice more and then her back bowed and her mouth opened with a soft cry; her sex rippled around him, squeezing and coaxing his own release and he tried to pull out in time but Emma held him tight against her.

As his own pleasure washed over him and he spilled his seed inside her, Killian dimly wondered if it was her intent to get with child; they hadn’t discussed it, particularly given her reaction at being presented with Liam’s ring, but perhaps this was her way of grabbing hold of the future with both hands and holding on tight. Perhaps she was taking his advice, at last, and living her life through the seemingly endless crises of Storybrooke.

He rolled off with a grunt, pulling her up next to him and kissing her forehead. “I love you,” Killian told her.

Emma smiled, her eyes tired but her skin flushed with satisfaction. “Love you too. Let me go clean up, okay?”

She disappeared into the bathroom and he unmade the bed, his body more than happy to spend an hour or so relaxing before another crisis hit. As he settled in against the pillows, Emma came back and climbed into bed with a happy sigh, tucking herself against him and tangling their legs. “You know, I thought about buying condoms,” she said, sounding tired herself, “but honestly, there’s something to barebacking and I don’t know if I’ll want to go back now.”

Killian raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her. Most days he could keep up with her speech – Henry, on the other hand, continued to be an education in linguistic differences – but today was apparently not one of those days. “I’m not sure what condoms are or why we’re discussing horses.”

Emma’s head came up, a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry, sometimes I forget you’re a decrepit old man.” He snorted at that. “Barebacking is what we did – sex without condoms. And a condom is a – a stretchy plastic thing you wear on your penis. It catches the sperm, most of the time.”

“The what?”

Now she rolled her eyes, laying back down with a laugh. “Man’s contribution to baby-making. Little tadpoles that go into the egg. God, they teach you ancient Greek in the Navy but not how babies are made?”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes. His hand drifted down to press gently against her stomach, where someday she would grow round with their child. “Enough to know that what we just did could give us such a child,” Killian said softly.

Emma glanced up at him, her eyes at once soft yet worried. “Oh, Killian, I –”

He kissed her softly. “It’s alright, love. They also taught us that while once is enough for a lady to fall pregnant, sometimes it takes several attempts. Or perhaps Liam taught me that one, bit hard to hear after he cuffed me ‘round the ears for making up to a flower girl in the market once.”

Emma shook her head, a small smile on her face. “There’s probably a conversation we need to have, but I am willing to put it off until after this nap. Sleep first, sex ed later.”

Killian had no idea what _sex ed_ was, but given the fact that he quite enjoyed the first part of it he thought that perhaps he might not entirely dislike it when paired with the second part.


	45. Mulled Wine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this for like a month. Grad school is hard and makes for not-braining-good.
> 
> Anon asked for: "If you have time for this prompt! No worries if you don't I know your busy! But a vibrating anal plug for Hook + public place?? Dom Emma? Maybe out to diner with her parents"
> 
> There's a bit of salty, a bit of sweet, a bit of kink, and a whole lot of lovin' here.

She stepped in close, smiling at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth while wearing nothing more than his dark-wash jeans slung low on his hips. Her eyes followed dark trail of hair on his stomach to where it disappeared under the waistband towards her favorite treat and smiled as the undone buckle of his belt clinked against the granite countertop. She reached up and ran her nails in light, nonsensical patterns along his back, not quite tickling but not quite trying to push the moment into something more sultry.

Not yet, anyway.

“I have a proposal,” she murmured in his ear, watching his face in the mirror as he tried to puzzle out what exactly it was she had in mind.

He spat, rinsed his mouth and toothbrush, and asked, “Aye? And what might that be?”

She loved the way his eyes darkened as she explained what she wanted, what she hoped he’d enjoy just as much as she did. She loved the roughness in his kiss when he agreed, the speed at which he shed his jeans and boxers, and the way he practically dragged her back into the bedroom. She loved the way she scooped her up and scooped her on the bed, grinning at her laughter as he climbed up next to her and sprawled out on his stomach. And she especially loved how much he trusted her, to let her play with him like this.

“I really do love this ass,” Emma said, running one hand down his back and gently squeezing one pert cheek.

Killian hummed, scrunching his pillow under his head with his arms tucked underneath it and by all appearances ready to take a nap – except for the fact that he was bare as the day he was born and laying on top of the covers. Emma reached over him for the lube they kept in the nightstand drawer as he mumbled, “It’s quite the good fortune that I’m amenable to that then, isn’t it?”

She lightly slapped his ass, smiling at his soft groan and the way he shifted his hips into the mattress. “You love it too, buster, don’t try to pretend.”

She got up and straddled his hips, leaning over him and pressing the heels of her hands into the muscle under his shoulder blades. He groaned louder and shifted under her again as she started massaging his back; this was their usual pre-playtime routine, Emma easing the tension in his shoulders and his back, working her way down to his ass so he was nice and relaxed for when she could get to work on opening him up. The goal was to make him loose and limber and putty in her hands – just enough to rile him up again and tease the living hell out of him. She liked doing this for him, too, giving him this attention and affection in sensual and intimate touch. She liked doing for him in this simple action of touch what he could do for her with his words of praise and love.

She could practically feel him melting into the bed as she worked, soaking in the attention and letting the tension flow out; sometimes she wondered if he’d actually fall asleep during one of these sessions. Then again, knowing how alert and _invigorated_ he was when it actually came to playtime, maybe not.

Emma slid back, straddling his thighs as she took the lube and spread a generous amount on her fingers. She loved the way he squirmed under her when she fingered his ass, the little moans and sighs and whines that slipped from his lips doing way more for her than they should.

She wondered if this is how he felt when their positions were reversed, when she was putty in his hand and he used his talented fingers to bring her to the brink again and again.

She didn’t focus too much on his prostate; they still had dinner to attend and she’d rather work him up slowly over the evening rather than giving him blue balls right off the bat. A few strokes here and there, just to tease and remind him of what could come later, enough to wrench a groan from low in his throat and that was all.

When he gave her the okay, Emma took the new plug from its place on the nightstand; she’d washed it and put in the batteries earlier while Killian had been in the shower. She coated it with lube as well and gently slid it inside him, pressing down on the end and wiggling it a bit to make sure it was snug and nothing hurt. “Good?”

He nodded and Emma smiled, getting up to wash her hands and let him get up in his own time. When she returned, Killian was sitting rather gingerly and sporting a half-hard cock. “Must we have dinner with your parents?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly and doing absolutely sinful things to her.

“Afraid so,” she said, picking out a shirt for him from the closet. “But if you’re a good boy, I promise you’ll get a treat when we come home.”

He eyed her with mild annoyance as she handed him the dark paisley-print shirt. “I’m not a dog nor a child, love.”

She shrugged; semantics, really. “Anything you want,” she said instead of apologizing. She watched with mild regret as he slipped the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned for now until he could retrieve his pants. “All you have to do is refuse to come until we get home, and you get anything you want.”

Killian got to his feet, sliding his blunted arm along her waist to pull her in close. She sighed when she felt his erection press against her stomach, really regretting that dinner obligation now. “Anything I want?” he asked mildly, nipping at her lower lip.

“Anything.”

“You’re on then, love.”

* * *

 

Bloody hell, she was trying to kill him.

He loved her challenges, loved playing with her fire and pushing at the limits she set. He loved the way her eyes flashed when she realized what he was doing, he loved the punishments she doled out.

Really, he loved _her_ , but she was definitely trying to kill him.

This new plug had plenty of perks – it was larger than his old one, filled him more completely and rubbed him in all the best ways – but while he definitely enjoyed the vibrating function of his old one, it didn’t come with a remote controlling device.

Emma seemed to definitely enjoy that aspect of it as well.

Thankfully, she seemed to have the good sense not to press the vibrating button while he was speaking. It was difficult enough to stay silent when she pressed it while engaged in conversation with her father; perhaps a slight grunt of surprise, but the young prince was playing on the floor with his wooden blocks under the table, so if questioned Killian would claim Neal had bashed his shin.

He also wondered how no one seemed to _hear_ the damn thing, though in fairness it wasn’t rattling anyone else at the table to their bones.

They almost had trouble when he stood to help Lady Snow with the dishes. Halfway around the kitchen island, Emma engaged the remote and he faltered. The plates clattered in his hand and Snow yelped as she lunged to reach for them before they fell, but he caught his balance in time. “Slippery buggers,” Killian said, laughing it off as a fault of the pasta sauce while throwing a surreptitious look towards his Swan.

“There’s a joke about fish and sea legs in there somewhere, I bet,” she commented, her eyes glittering with mirth as she took a pull from her wine glass and turned off the plug.

Little minx.

“If you find it, feel free to clue the rest of us in,” David commented, going to the fridge. “Want another beer, Hook?”

Emma cleared her throat and Killian took up the hint. “Thanks but no, mate. We’ve got a date with a new mulled wine recipe later, I’d like to have my palate clean,” he said easily

“Oh, if you like it you’ll have to give us the recipe,” Snow said brightly.

Killian glanced at Emma, who nodded. “Sure, Mom. I’ll bring it over next time and let you know how it went.”

He supposed they’d have to find a mulled wine recipe then; he had no interest in sharing their sex life with Emma’s parents. Killian couldn’t begin to imagine how David might take a suggestion of incorporating anal play – no, no, now he’s thinking about it.

Killian winced, trying to scrub that image out of his mind. The only benefit he could see was that the mental image completely killed his erection, thus prolonging his bet with Emma and earning his reward.

She turned on the vibrating plug twice more during the rest of their visit, coaxing his cock back to full mast; but as the time came to leave Killian found himself merely pleasantly aroused, rather than painfully as before. She left the plug on as she gathered their coats, leaving him to try and pay attention to whatever it was David was talking about. He was sure Snow could feel it or hear it in his bones when she hugged him goodbye, but if she did she made no mention of it. A simple handclasp with David gave nothing away.

Killian let out a heavy sigh when the door to the loft closed behind them and met Emma’s wicked glance. “Ready to go home, Captain?”

* * *

 

It felt like the moment she got him home overlapped with the moment she snapped her fingers to magic away his clothes.

Maybe it was, she was too worked up to care about simple things like time.

He’d been so good over dinner, the barest of flinches every time she’d turned on the vibrator, the slightest twitch of his jaw signaling how much it drove him crazy. She didn’t know how he’d managed to hold out, she’d been _sure_ that she could make him come in his pants before dessert.

“You’ve definitely earned your reward,” Emma murmured, circling him and running her fingers lightly along his skin. “Remember, anything you want.”

She punctuated it with a light slap on his ass, grabbing the firm cheek and squeezing; he tensed, his back straightening and his muscles flexing. She relished every gasp and moan she could wring out of him, and she dearly hoped he’d ask that of her tonight.

“Tie me up,” he said through grit teeth.

“Do you _want_ that?” she asked, adding a touch of authority to her voice.

He got her meaning immediately. “I want you to tie me up,” he said.

“What else do you _want_?”

“I want you to ride me,” he said clearly as his body started to relax. Emma almost tutted: that just wouldn’t do. She palmed the remote again and pressed it, feeling him tense up as the vibrations started back up and enjoying the slight whine in Killian’s voice as he added, “I want to feel you come around me.”

Well, then.

Emma waved her hand and transported them to the bedroom. Killian eagerly followed her lead, letting her push him down onto the bed. She stripped down to her panties and bra, turned off the plug for now, then took a moment to think how she wanted to do this. There was a silk scarf in the bedside table that she liked to use; she dragged the ends across his skin, letting the material wind him up further as she teased his cock and the few ticklish spots she could reach.

She climbed up on the bed, straddling his thighs as she did just that. She loved watching his eyes roll back in his head as the material danced up his body. She loved watching him pull against his own self-restraint, watching his fist clench and unclench as he tried to hold back and let her do whatever she wanted with his body.

Sometimes it was very difficult for the captain to let go. It was her job to reward him when he did.

Emma moved up his body slowly, teasingly brushing the soaked crotch of her panties against his straining cock as she swiveled her hips. His cock nestled itself against the crease of her ass as she bent over him to tie his hand and brace to the headboard. Glancing down, she saw him staring intently at her breasts, the lace of her bra doing almost nothing to hide what lay underneath. With a smirk, she twisted his hook, removing it from the brace with a soft _click_ , and sat back on her haunches.

The tip of Killian’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he stared, unblinking, as she brought the tip of the hook to her chest. “What do you want me to do with it?” she asked, her voice low.

“I want you to rip – rip the corset,” he rasped.

She shivered slightly at the pinprick of pain as she dragged the tip of the hook down her chest, leaving a thin red line in its wake. “And?” she prompted, stopping with the hook at the bridge.

“A-and I want you to tear your underwear.”

She’d discovered there was a slight trick to how he did it – how he could rip her clothes from her body with ease, that is – rather than sheer strength alone, and angled the point of the hook. Killian sucked in a breath as her bra opened, the cups falling away and leaving her breasts bare. She tossed the ruined material away. She felt him strain under her when she snapped the sides of her panties, his hips rising up in desperation to feel her damp curls against his cock. “Ah ah ah,” she teased, setting aside the hook and the ripped, soaked cloth. “Patience.”

“Sod the patience, I want–”

Emma’s finger went to his lips. Killian’s tongue ran the length of her finger, teasing her for a moment before sucking it into his mouth. “I know what you want,” she murmured, enjoying the feel of his mouth on her.

She drew her hand back, watching his eyes widen as she drew circles around first one nipple, then the other, with the finger he’d just been sucking on. The moisture and the cool air in their bedroom made her nipples tighten to pebbled peaks as she ground down on his cock.

One hand and one smooth slide later, Killian was fully sheathed inside of her. Emma rocked her hips, bracing herself against his chest. She reached for the remote, half-forgotten on the bedside table, and turned it on again. She _almost_ moaned – she could feel the plug vibrating faintly through his body. “You want me to ride you?” she asked, her voice hitching when the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot.

Killian nodded, then choked out a _yes_ as she squeezed him with her inner muscles. Emma grinned and leaned back, bracing herself on his thighs as she rode him hard, just the way he liked. She felt his eyes on her, knew he was torn between watching her breasts bounce and watching the way his cock disappeared into her body again and again. He loved to narrate their lovemaking to her, loved to tease and torment her by talking about the way his cock felt inside of her. Damn him, he knew just how to use his voice against her, that low and rumbling pitch that she could feel through his chest.

Killian hissed under her now and Emma whimpered, her orgasm just out of reach. She swiveled her hips, trying to change the angle as she bounced in his lap; she cursed his love for being tied up, she really needed another hand to rub her clit –

“Come on, love,” Killian bit out. Emma whimpered again: he was using his voice on her. He always knew what she needed, even when she was supposed to be taking care of him. “Come for me, darling, come on my cock. I want to feel you, I want to feel you come, want to feel you squeeze me–”

She cried out, his words just enough to send her over the edge. Her movements stuttered as she rode out her high, the feeling of his hard length inside of her dragging her pleasure out. She slowed, coming to a stop; her thighs ached and her arms shook from the effort. She could still feel the vibrations from Killian’s plug, the sensations flowing up through his body and his cock, still stiff inside of her. “What are you doing?” he rasped as she started to get up.

Emma winced as he slipped out of her, still hard, still red, newly coated in her essence. “You wanted me to come on your cock,” she explained as she sat cross-legged next to him. She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and it thrilled her to be able to get under his skin just a little bit more. “So I did.”

His eyes widened as she reached for the scarf. “No!” he yelped. “No, Emma, please – please, I need to come, I need you like this –”

She smiled to herself, but kept her face stern, her voice hard. “I didn’t ask you what you _needed_ , Killian. I asked you what you _wanted_. Didn’t I give you what you _wanted_?”

“Yes – yes, Emma, of course, you’re so good to me, but _please_ , darling –”

“I need you,” she said sternly, leaning over him for emphasis, “to tell me what you _want_.”

She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. His pupils were blown out and his hair was a wreck from thrashing.

She loved him like this.

“I want you to let me come,” he said finally.

She took him in her mouth, tasting herself on his cock and mixing it with the salty precum beading heavily at the tip. Killian thrashed under her, pulling at his restraints and praising her to the heavens. She reached under him and flicked the button on the plug, turning up the vibrations until he shouted himself hoarse, his cries broken as he came down her throat.

Emma licked him clean as she switched off the vibrator. She sat up, admiring the flush across his body and the fine sheen of sweat glistening in the low light. She crawled up the length of the bed and untied him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead and kissing him softly. “Love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, his eyes closed and his chest heaving and his voice nothing more than a rasp. “You’ve got the most brilliant ideas, love, have I ever told you that before?”

Emma grinned. “A time or two. Think you can make it to the bathroom to clean up?”

Killian grumbled, but with some effort managed to sit up. “Aye. I’ll… take care of this, you find some sort of wine recipe to share with your parents.”

Emma’s eyebrow went up as he stood. She loved her parents, but they were hardly the first thing on her mind during her post-coital bliss. “Can I ask why?”

“Mulled wine recipe,” came the reply from the bathroom. Her mouth dropped open slightly and she fought the urge to giggle. “’s what we said we were doing, yes?”

This time she really did giggle. She’d thought that the taco incident – or the _resting_ incident, whatever – had ruined enough innocent things for her, but it seemed they’d have to add another to the list.


	46. Trying to Get Pregnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in ten minutes as an exercise. Anon wanted "CS trying to get pregnant smut and doing everything and anything when it keeps failing :))"

Two weeks ago she’d broken down crying in his arms, right when he’d been trying to fuck her into the wall and she’d protested because she had read somewhere that you couldn’t get pregnant standing up.

Three weeks ago he’d eaten a whole lemon before fucking her, because some old wive’s tale the Old Lady Who Lived In a Shoe passed on said it made men more fertile.

A month ago Emma had insisted they have sex under the full moon, surrounded by lit fertility candles, positioned with their heads facing north.

Today, she was just taking her temperature for what felt like the millionth time.

God, she was so tired of this. Fertile as a ripe goddamn mango at sixteen, but God forbid a thirty-two year old woman be able to get pregnant. No wonder she hadn’t been able to open the classifieds in New York without reading about women begging for egg donations from early menopause.

Fuck, she wasn’t menopausal, was she? What were the signs of that? Hot flashes, right? Shit, she’d been warm last night…

“Love. Breathe. You know the doctor said stressing makes it worse,” Killian said, brushing her hair away from her neck before sucking on her pulse.

“Not the right temperature,” Emma said, a slight whine in her voice because _fuck_ how was he always so good to her?

He hummed against her skin, his hand undoing her robe and sliding it to the floor. “I don’t bloody care. It’ll happen, my love. You just need to relax and… let me take care of you.”

He laid her on the bed, his mouth soft and soothing and his tongue leaving warm trails of wet along her skin. He sucked her nipples to taut peaks, dipped his tongue into the valley of her naval, feasted on her core like she was the last thing he would ever taste. She flew, sparks under her skin as he made her come again and again, unrelenting and leaving her gasping for breath as he shucked his pants and shirt to cover her body with his. “Let me take care of you, Emma,” Killian murmured, and she tasted herself on his lips.

They were experts at this dance by now, his cock sliding effortlessly into her body, but she never grew tired of it. She might be frustrated and upset about not being able to conceive, but Killian was so good to her – so good at reminding her that they could have all the fun in the world practicing.

“Maybe we just haven’t practiced enough yet,” she said, gasping as he hit her g-spot.

“I’ll be more than happy to practice with you,” he grunted, swiveling his hips as he drove into her harder.

She hardly felt his climax beneath hers, her skin feeling like it glowed and her sex squeezing every last drop out of him and hopefully filling her womb with his seed – giving them a baby at long last. They hadn’t been trying for very long and the doctors said only to worry if a whole year passed, but Emma worried anyway.

“I love you,” she said, locking her ankles around the small of his back, trapping him inside of her, maybe for an hour or maybe forever. “Thank you for keeping me from going crazy.”

Killian kissed her forehead. “I love you as well, darling. And you’re not mad, you’re just as sane as I am.”

He grinned at that and she snorted, dissolving into giggles as he rolled them to their sides, his hand making small, soothing circles at the small of her back.


	47. Reverse Cowgirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted reverse cowgirl and I did a ten minute writing exercise.

If ever there was a time when he’d thought he’d regret laying down his sword, giving up a life at sea and full of adventure, it must have been before he’d ever met Emma Swan.

How could he have regrets when the most beautiful woman in all the realms lay her body across his, mewling and writhing against him and teasing him in the most delicious way? How could he have regrets when he felt, as if for the first time in his very long life, that he’d finally come home, found warmth and welcome in a safe harbor against the most brutal of storms?

“Up on your knees, pet, there’s a girl,” he murmured as she obeyed his request.

Clothes had been scattered almost casually over the course of the evening, a lazy night at home punctuated with lazier kisses that inevitably became decidedly _less_ lazy. Emma’s sweater was draped over the coffee table, her lace corset somewhere near the television. His shirt lay open and she’d cleverly divested him of his trousers while he’d been distracted by the sight of her bare breasts. He wasn’t sure where the trousers had ended up and at the moment he hardly cared.

Now, as she shimmied out of her own trousers and underthings, Killian was content to prop his head up and watch with interest as she then knelt on either side of his hips, her perfectly pert arse facing him. Emma threw a look over her shoulder, a perfect blend of sin and angelic innocence in her hooded eyes, as she guided his painfully erect cock to her core.

He heard her sighs and moans of pleasure mix with his, her head thrown back and her golden tresses a glorious cascade down her back, ending just shy of her bottom. Her hands were braced on his thighs as she rocked and swiveled her body on his cock. Killian reached down and ran his hand along the graceful lines and curve of her body with wonder: how could this woman love him, find so much joy and pleasure from being with someone like him?

She moaned delectably when he squeezed one cheek, her molten core squeezing his cock in return. Neither seemed to be in any hurry to climax, simply enjoying the feeling of being one again. If he had his way, they’d never leave the house again, ensconced in their own company and rarely being far from one another. Certainly never wearing clothes. No indeed, Emma Swan bare as the day she was born was certainly a treat, one he took care never to take for granted.

“You feel amazing,” she said, her voice hitching as she rode him.

“Aye, the feeling’s mutual.”

At length, he sat up, wrapping his blunted arm around her stomach and palming her breast in his hand. His lips traveled easily along the long line of her neck, searching for new places to make her gasp and pant his name. As his fingers tweaked her nipple, he felt her shudder and her inner walls ripple around him. “Are you close, love?”

She nodded, her face awash with ecstasy, and Killian adjusted their position slightly so he could thrust into her more easily. When she came, it was with her head thrown back against his shoulder, her long hair trapped between them and tickling his abdomen; her body shuddered and jerked in his hold as she rode her orgasm out, and only when he felt her start to calm did he increase his own pace. He spilled himself inside her after a few moments more, resting his forehead on her shoulder and letting them both fall back against the couch. “I love you,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating it with a kiss. “So much.”

Her hands found his arms, one lacing their fingers together and the other covering his brace. “I love you too.”


	48. The Birds and the Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deathbycaptainswan wanted some smut of Killian noticing Emma's new flowery shirts.
> 
> Things got a little ridiculous.

He’s used to her in leather. He likes the leather, he likes that in this simple way they are once more kindred spirits. He likes her sweaters – though he likes her more without, for when he peels the warm cloth from her body she never fails to tuck her body against his, claiming, “It’s fucking cold, Killian.”

He _loves_ her trousers, the nigh-obscene way they cling to her legs and her shapely hips, and the boots that reach for her knees and give her enough height so that he doesn’t have to _quite_ bend in two to kiss her.

(Though he loves her, too, in her stocking feet, when she allows herself to feel vulnerable and their bodies fit together perfectly – her head on his shoulder, tucked just under his chin.)

But there’s been a change recently, and one he’s not entirely opposed to.

It’s as if spring has arrived in Emma’s wardrobe. He knew that the rest of her and Henry’s things had been shipped up from New York and that the limited space in her parents’ loft had prevented much of her things to be unpacked. Her limited wardrobe had been acceptable, as the chilly days in Storybrooke meant layers and sweaters and her coat zipped up to hide the fact that she wore the same shirt two days in a row. But now with the house and all of the space within it that practically begged to be filled, the boxes have slowly been emptied and their closet is full to the brim of all manner of flowery things he’s never seen before.

“That one’s nice,” Killian comments over breakfast, trying not to leer at how he can see right through the flowery material to the dark camisole underneath.

Emma only smiles, then swipes the coffee mug out of Henry’s hand. “You’re fourteen, kid, no coffee until college.”

“ _Mom_.”

“Quit staying up late playing _Resident Evil_.”

Killian hides his smirk behind his own mug as Henry puts on a full show of teenage angst, bemoaning the unfairness of the world as he gathered his backpack and went out to catch the bus. “Don’t think Granny will sympathize with you either!” Emma calls after him, just as the door slams shut. “God, tell me you were just as dramatic as a teenager,” she mutters.

“Oh, Swan, I was much worse,” Killian says truthfully.

She considers him for a moment, then shakes her head, sitting down and nursing her coffee with a frown line between her brows.

They sit in comfortable silence, his mug sitting empty on the table and hers resting against her chin as she allows the caffeine to work its magic on her body. Killian is content to let his eyes rove about her body. The sheer material drapes about her in the most delightful way, leaving her various freckles visible. He loves her freckles, loves mapping them with his lips and tongue and weaving stories for her about the constellations under her skin.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, however briefly, and Emma spots it.

“I have to work.”

He smirks, eyebrow quirking up.

“Hook.”

He leans back a little in the chair, resettling himself in a more provocative slouch, his head tilted just so.

Emma purses her lips and he can see the war behind her eyes – the urge to give in to the desire surely building in her veins against the logical reasoning of adulthood responsibilities. Killian gets to his feet then, walking around to stand behind her. His hand rests on the back of her chair as he leans down and presses a kiss just under her ear, his nose brushing against her soft skin and making her shiver. “These shirts of yours, the new ones, they’re enough to drive a man to madness,” he murmurs, enjoying how she shivers again from his breath tickling her ear.

“Yeah? Well,” she mutters, unable or unwilling to finish whatever thought is on her mind; he can see the indent of her smile on her cheek.

“You look lovely as a field of flowers,” he says, humming slightly as he skims forward, his rough, stubbled cheek against hers.

She actually giggles then, twisting to look him in the eye. “You sound like a bee in my ear, humming like that. Are you looking to pollinate something?”

There’s a wicked gleam in her eye, the kind that only appears when one has committed the worst sort of sin and enjoyed every moment of it. “That was awful,” Killian tells her, pulling back.

Emma just continues to laugh, breaking it only for a moment to shriek in surprise as he scoops her up, cradling her to his chest as he carries her into the living room. He doesn’t _quite_ drop her onto the couch, but she does bounce from the impact and her laughter quiets into giggles as he crawls on top of her.

Her laughter tastes like starlight, filling him with a glowing happiness as he kisses and nuzzles her. She wriggles under him and he shifts his weight so as not to crush her as he nips the skin at her collarbone. He mouths at the peaks of her breasts over her layers of clothes, savoring her whimpers and smirking at her weak admonishment: “Don’t leave wet marks.”

“Too late,” he tells her, before sucking at her nipples through the cloth once more.

He slides further down, lifting her shirts slightly to nibble and suck on the skin of her stomach and enjoying the way her sensitive skin jumps under his touch. He deftly undoes the button and pulls down first the zipper, then both her trousers and underthings. “Not all the way,” Emma says, even as her hips cant up towards him, seeking friction.

“I know, love, I know.”

They’ve had enough of these quick morning trysts that he’s well-versed in what to do. He leaves her sock on as he frees one leg, tickling the sole of her foot through the thin cotton before sliding his hand up her leg. His fingers find her core warm and wet, easily slipping through her folds and teasing her entrance. His thumb brushes against her clit and she rolls her hips up again. “Stop teasing me,” she tells him, a hint of a whine in her voice.

Killian brings his fingers to his mouth, humming as he tastes her sweetness. “Such sweet nectar, Swan.”

“Oh God.”

He grins. “Oh yes, darling, you started it with the pollination comment.”

“This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?”

He loosens his belt, sighing as he undoes his own trousers and frees his erection. He slides the material down enough on his hips so that the zipper doesn’t catch the sensitive skin. “Well, I’ll try not to sting you much,” Killian says as she wraps her legs around his waist and he positions himself at her entrance.

“Remind me – oh _God_ , you feel good – to tell you about – _fuck_ – the birds and the bees sometime,” Emma says, moaning as he fills her to the hilt.

He hardly gives her time to adjust, setting a quick pace. She claws at his back, her nails digging in through his thin shirt. Killian rests his forehead between her breasts, gritting his teeth as he rides her harder. His impending orgasm tingles at the base of his spine, his balls tightening preemptively, but he refuses to come before she does.

He feels her legs jerk first, tightening then trembling as her sex ripples around his cock and she cries out his name with a choke gasp. Only when he feels her start to relax does he allow his own orgasm to wash over him, letting pleasure soothe his aches and ease the tension in his spine.

Emma allows them both a moment to catch their breath before patting his shoulder. “Work,” she says, though there’s regret in her voice.

“But you said you’d tell me about the birds and the bees,” he mumbles, not moving his head from the soft cushion of her breasts.

She laughs and oh how he loves hearing her laugh when his ear is pressed to her chest, feeling her shake under him. “Later,” she promises. “After Henry goes to bed. He probably won’t want to hear it again.”

“Again?”

“Son of an unwed teenage mother? You bet we’ve had the talk.”

Killian begins to put the pieces of this vague concept together as he gets to his feet and helps her sit up. They right their clothes and Emma mutters something about going to clean up before leaving when he says, “I think the only thing you’ll have to explain is _why_ in particular this realm has chosen those two unrelated creatures to represent the coupling of a man and his woman.”

Emma arches her eyebrow at him, though he sees she’s fighting off another laugh. “I’ll ignore the territorial crap or else we’ll be here arguing all day. But you’re on notice, buddy.”

He stops her as she heads towards the bathroom, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Love you too, Swan.”

“You just love my shirts,” she retorts.

_Aye_ , he muses as he watches her trot up the stairs. _That I do_.


	49. Dry Humping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten minute sprint for this prompt: "anyway any chance of writing a smutty CS fic where Emma humps Killian till he explodes?"

Sometimes, making it up to the bedroom was too much work.

Sometimes, shedding all of their clothes was too much work.

And today, shedding any clothes at all was definitely not on her agenda.

She loved the way his hair looked after a particularly intense make-out session. It stuck up in wisps and curled in a way that read “wrecked” and very much enhanced the look of hungry desperation on his face as he watched her straddle his hips.

Kiss-swollen lips parted as Emma ground down over the prominent bulge in his jeans – seriously, thank God for whoever introduced him to skinny jeans. Her blood hummed with arousal and, at the moment, coming at all felt more important than going through the ritual of disrobing, foreplay, and eventually penetration. The seam of her own jeans pressed against her clit in a way that made her toes curl as she ground down again; Killian made a noise halfway between a whimper and a groan, his fist clenched at his side as he barely remembered her only rule:

_No touching._

She braced herself on his chest as she moved, her motions a mockery of the usual way she rode him but Killian didn’t seem to care. His head fell back as his hips pushed up, driving his clothed cock against her inseam again and again, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth falling open as he let loose a series of pants and grunts that only warmed her blood further.

Emma wondered if it was possible to rub a hole in the crotch of her jeans; surely it was, between Killian’s enthusiasm and how damp her clothes were from her own arousal.

Deftly, she undid a few more buttons on his shirt and vest, exposing more of his chest so she could rake her nails through the coarse hair there. Killian cried out, his hips jerking up hard, and Emma responded by pressing down harder. Her own release was close, so close, she could almost taste it…

Killian reached it first, his body stiffening just before Emma felt her own orgasm hit; her walls clenched uselessly on nothing as she rode it out, and a dim part of her wished she could feel him inside of her.

She let herself drop, resting against him as they caught their breath. She felt Killian tug at her sleeve, and lifted her head enough to look at him. “Told you I liked the red leather jacket,” he said, his hair more wrecked than ever and a hearty flush on his cheeks.

Emma smiled fondly, loving the way he looked post-orgasm. “You did. Let’s clean you up, and then round two.”

“Round two?”

She got up with a grunt and stood on wobbly legs, then helped him up. “Yeah. Definitely want you inside me next time.”


	50. The Pirate and the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 50 CHAPTERS HOLY CRAP!!
> 
> Anyway, this was a request for wish!AU Emma to have a clandestine relationship with a certain pirate.

Quite on accident, Emma found herself half in love with a _pirate_ , of all people.

She’d accepted her young widowhood quite graciously, focusing all of her energies on raising her son – and a fine young man Henry was turning out to be. She’d thought nothing else would honor her late husband’s memory than to ensure that their son, the future crown prince, would bring nothing but honor to their family.

But Henry was growing up, as all young boys do, and as he went squiring about and having his own adventures, he needed his mother less. Emma found herself drifting from one activity to the next, bestowing her princess’ favor upon charities and the good people of her kingdom, but something felt… off.

Missing.

Until the night a man vaulted over the railing of her balcony, mistaking her rooms for some treasure vault.

He’d immediately realized his mistake, urging her not to scream – in fact, her hand had been halfway to her washbasin to hurl it at his head before she’d thought to scream for the guards – and after a short, furious, whispered argument, she’d donned her dressing gown and interrogated him to Hades and back.

Emma was not nearly as empty-headed as her family and her kingdom liked to believe. She played that part well, the quiet princess who deferred to her parents’ rule and doted on her son, pretending to be interested more in the finery and flimsy trappings of a princess’ life than the harsh realities of ruling. And she did enjoy some of those – there was a reason her mother had given over the planning of royal events to Emma – but she spent many an hour locked up in the library with her nose in a book and her hands stained with quill-ink. Perhaps she’d been that young, innocent, naive girl once, but wedding at sixteen and losing her husband at seventeen had caused her to grow up some. Her parents had insisted on sheltering her from further tragedies, but after a time it had become annoying and suffocating; but she loved her parents, so she kept up the act for their sake. Only recently, with Henry’s increasing need for independence, had Emma found time to really apply herself to her studies and expand her views of the world.

While interrogating her intruder, she’d found that a) he was indeed a pirate, none other than the nefarious Captain Hook b) he’d come for the Dark One’s dagger secured in her parents’ castle, c) he cared not a whit that the Dark One was safely caged away, and d) despite being at least ten years older than she and his hair liberally streaked with silver, he was the most handsome man Emma had seen in her life.

And something in her calmed as he verbally sparred with her, like a long-ignored itch being scratched.

She let him go free, in exchange for that relief she hadn’t known she needed. Perhaps if he hadn’t looked over his shoulder at her before he left, a long and lingering look, Emma might have forgotten the event. But he had and that look haunted her dreams for a week.

A week until he’d appeared again, once more climbing her balcony, but this time with a different purpose. They’d been quiet, but Emma’s heart sang and her skin burned as he’d ravished her – it was something out of a romantic poem, a pirate and a princess. It had been a very long time since she’d known the touch of another, and she’d _never_ been treated so boldly or given such pleasure in her life. After Captain Jones had left in the pearly gray of pre-dawn, she’d resolved to do something about the guards next time he chose to visit.

That had been six months ago. Six months of secret nighttime visits and Emma making up all sorts of excuses to keep the guards from her rooms, but she didn’t care how transparent her behavior was. For the first time in a very, very long time, she felt like nothing was missing from her life.

Killian tumbled neatly over the rail, disturbing her thoughts as he got up with a slight wince. “Good evening, your highness,” he said, inclining his head in place of a bow.

Emma was in his arms in a moment, desperate to feel his hard, muscled body against hers after weeks of separation. “I missed you,” she said, sighing as he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips.

“And I you, milady,” he said when they parted. “But there were fortunes to be found and I have a crew to be paid.”

Emma smiled to herself. She knew he kept the most dangerous of his tales from her, keep her from worry or from frightening her, but she was aware of the risks he took every time he left port. “And did you find those fortunes?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. Her fingers traced the embroidered designs on his red vest; she liked the red, a bold splash of color against his usual black.

Killian stepped back, then produced a length of pearls from his belt-purse. “The captain gets first pick of the treasures, and these caught my eye. I thought they’d look lovely around your neck.”

Emma’s eyes widened, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Killian, I can’t possibly accept –”

But he shook his head, smiling. “Princess, these are bought and paid for honestly – though the means by which I came by the gold may have been less than honest. I wouldn’t dare gift the crown princess stolen goods, particularly for her birthday.”

With that statement, he draped the strand of pearls around her neck, then tilted his head back to admire her. “Just as I thought. Absolutely beautiful.”

The precious stones felt cool against her skin. Before Emma could speak, he swept her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour, carrying her to her large, four-poster bed. He set her reverently on the down quilt, laying himself along side her and propping his head up on his hand. Emma gazed up at him, her heart feeling very full. “Then I do accept, and thank you very much. People normally gift me with opals; they become tiresome after a time, regardless of the variety.”

Killian hummed, tracing the line of pearls with his hook. “I suppose everything beautiful can become ordinary after a time. Though please feel free to send me to the gallows if I ever believe _you_ to be ordinary.”

Emma’s blood felt icy, the mood taking a decidedly less pleasant turn. “Killian. Please don’t joke about such things.”

He kissed her brow. “Apologies, love. Black humor is an acquired taste, I admit, and one I hope you never have the chance to become overly familiar with.”

She tucked herself against him, breathing in his soothing scent to calm herself. His very presence in her rooms was enough to give him a life sentence in gaol; their activities could send him to the gallows in a heartbeat, and that on top of his crimes as a pirate. Killian pulled her in close, murmuring more apologies into her hair. “I care for you too much to lose you to imprisonment or death,” Emma admitted quietly.

“And blessed am I for currying such favor, princess.” Killian kissed the top of her head once more, then rolled her onto her back. “Please don’t worry for me, love, if there’s anything I’m good at it’s surviving. Shall I make it up to you?”

Doing her best to set her unease aside, Emma tilted her head in what she hoped was a coy manner. “How ever shall you do that, Captain?”

The grin he gave her fell somewhere between triumphant and feral. “I think, perhaps, it is better to show rather than tell.”

They were always careful about the removal of her clothes – what little she wore during their nighttime assignations – but Emma found herself staring at Killian’s hook with something akin to longing. What would it feel like to have him tear the clothes from her body? Would she be frightened, or would it turn her into some sort of wild, lust-driven creature?

Would he even want to use it in that manner?

Emma sat up to remove her nightgown, tossing the flimsy material to the floor as Killian began to remove his own clothes. She started to remove the pearls, but Killian’s hand stayed her own. “I’d like it if you left those on, if you don’t mind,” he said, his voice gentle.

Emma felt her face heat up again, though she couldn’t place why the thought of Killian making love to her while she wore his gift made her blush. She left the pearls alone and laid back on the bed as he finished undressing.

His mouth traveled along her body, his scruffy chin tickling her cheeks and leaving warm marks down her neck. He nibbled at her collarbones and (rather cruelly, in Emma’s opinion) bypassed her breasts altogether. She tried not to whine, but some noise must have escaped her because she felt Killian chuckle against her belly. “Patience, milady,” he cautioned her.

“Perhaps I’ve become overly familiar with selfish desires,” Emma countered. “I have been spending rather a lot of time with a _pirate_ –”

Her next words were swallowed by a gasp as he delved between her legs. Her back bowed from the bed as he licked her and licked her, his tongue rough on her swollen and sensitive skin. She felt as if she could barely breathe, drowning in the sudden onslaught of pleasure. One of her hands found his hair as the other gripped her pillow, her grip on both tightening as he sucked on her sensitive bud. Killian’s own appreciative groans and little growls at every tug of his hair only made her feel more wild, more unhinged. She felt like she was floating away, her only tether to the earth his mouth against her core.

The first time he’d done this, she’d been shy and unsure. The act of sex was practically foreign to her at that point in her life, the only knowledge of the more intimate aspects coming from books or overhearing the servants gossipping. Certainly at sixteen her first forays into being with her husband were awkward, vaguely uncomfortable, and rarely satisfying.

But Killian. He’d opened her eyes to new worlds, without ever leaving the comforts of her bed. He’d been patient, letting her take the lead and give the okay when he’d wanted to show her something new. He’d learned every part of her body, memorized what made her gasp or moan, what made her feel light and what made her scream his name.

(Hence the distraction of the guards. How embarrassing to be caught with a strange man in her bed – a wanted man at that, with a several thousand guineas on his head. How mortifying when her screams were not those of fear, but ones of unimaginable pleasure.)

But while Killian thoroughly enjoyed showering her with pleasure, he also thrived when taking it away. He moved, her lust nowhere near slaked, and ignored her whining protests as he kissed his way up her body. Her breasts felt fuller now, more sensitive as he finally paid them tribute with his tongue and teeth. Her pearls were caught between her skin and his mouth and Emma squirmed as he rolled the precious stones around her nipples.

“You’ll never be able to look at these again without thinking of this,” he murmured as he switched. “A pretty flush on your cheeks, or perhaps right here.” He nosed at the patch of skin just below her throat, kissing a freckle or two. “Let the nobility wonder what has Princess Emma in such a state, they’d never guess you to relive the memory of this night.”

When he thrust home, his length hard and warm and welcome in her body, Emma met his blue eyes with her own. She wondered if they were a reflection of his soul, the blue of the sea he traversed so often. The crow’s feet around his eyes deepened when he smiled, a bit of his salt-and-pepper fringe falling in a curtain between them. She brushed it aside and kissed him, moving with him as she chased her peak.

She fell first, pleasure tingling under her skin as her walls convulsed around him, coaxing him to spill his seed into her womb. She felt no worry at that, the potions and spells they both took would prevent any illegitimate heirs to the Misthaven throne. Instead, she relaxed as he sagged against her. Their uneven breathing filled the room, their bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat as weariness began to settle into Emma’s bones.

“I wish you did not have to leave,” she admitted as Killian pushed his weight off of her.

They pulled aside the bedcovers and settled underneath, enjoying each other’s company for a little while longer before he would inevitably dress and leave through the gardens; it was risky to stay very long. “Alas, that is the only wish I cannot grant,” he said as she lay flush against him. “Would that I could, my darling.”

“Pity,” she murmured, fighting off the drowsiness. “If I had one wish for my birthday, it would be this. I have everything else I could possibly want, but for you. And I know that sounds selfish and spoiled; you’re not a thing to be kept, Killian. I just wish…”

He smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her brow, a thousand unsaid words of affection conveyed through little actions. “I know, love. I wish it too.”


	51. Emma x Killian x Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was an anonymous prompt for Emma taking the serum, previously mentioned in a Killian/Emma/Hook chapter, with some pegging and some rough play.
> 
> **bookstoreromantic** beta'd and it's a bit of a gift for **PhiraLovesLoki** and **Lifeinahole** for doing A Good Job and getting their respective classwork graded.

There was a mouth on his cock.

He should have been more focused on the weight straddled across his chest, but Killian was only a man and when someone was lovingly sucking and licking the length of his cock, well. A man has his priorities.

Only when he tried to move did he realize his arms were tied.

His eyes opened.

“Good,” Emma said, a smirk on her lips – her very red lips. She was the weight on his chest, her _very_ nude form straddling him and leaving all of herself on glorious display. “He’s finally awake.”

Killian took in her white-gold hair and the predatory look in her eyes as alarm bells went off in his brain, but a second voice brought his attention back towards his groin. “Do you like your surprise?”

The reason for his mental alarm bells clicked when he saw Emma – _another_ Emma, _his_ Emma – look around the hips of her doppelganger and smiled sweetly at him. Her hair was golden, her eyes serene and a little mischievous, her lips glossed pink and he’d no doubt his cock proudly bore remnants of the gloss. “You took the serum,” he said.

Swan – for she resembled the Dark Swan, Emma’s worst self, all cold beauty and selfish desire – lightly scratched her nails through his chest hair. “Of course I did. You were so good to me – us – and I felt that such good behavior should be rewarded.”

Her lust-laced tone reminded him of that afternoon a few weeks before, when he’d taken the serum at her behest and she’d been ravished within an inch of her life. They’d discussed it a few times after, reminiscing mostly, but once he’d ventured the suggestion of being on the receiving end the next time. She’d seemed unsure, though, and he’d let the matter drop. He’d thought he’d be content with fantasies alone if it caused her discomfort. Emma’s hand on his thigh brought him back to the present. “I thought you’d enjoy it as a surprise,” she said simply.

“ _I_ thought you’d enjoy _this_ ,” Swan said, fingering the ropes that bound his wrist and hand to the headboard. He’d no idea how she bound his bare wrist, but he expected something magical had been involved. “I seem to find you tied up often enough. But I have to say, you do look so pretty this way.”

Emma’s worst self, it seemed, was comprised of selfishness and the harsh words she never allowed herself to say, the anger and hurt built up over years unhampered by her innate goodness. But Swan’s gentle touches on his arms and chest told him that – as Hook had been with Emma so many weeks before – under the cold exterior she still loved him above all else.

A light grip on his cock brought him back to the matter at hand. “What are you going to do with me?” Killian asked, the words rasping as he glanced down and saw how wet Swan was for him; her essence glistened on her exposed skin, her soft curls damp with desire.

Swan leaned down, biting hard and then gently on his ear before whispering, “Whatever we want.”

Emma’s mouth returned to his cock and Killian groaned deep in his throat, pulling against the enchanted ropes and straining against Swan’s weight on his chest. She lapped at the tip, her teasing tongue swirling and probing and pushing him closer and closer to the brink.

Swan plundered his mouth. Killian trembled from the multitude of sensations assaulting him: the rough kisses, the way she sucked on his tongue, Emma’s light touches on his cock and balls, four sets of nails raking and dragging and teasing their way along his skin – he’d be left with red crisscrossing lines on almost every inch of his body, as if he’d gotten into a fight with an animal and lost, and by all the gods he was loving every second of it.

“Let’s put that tongue to better use,” Swan murmured, her nose brushing against his and her lips teasing him in the most delightful way. She moved before he could think what that meant, and he found her straddling his head. He looked up past her dripping core, up the flat expanse of pale skin and past her pert breasts to find her staring down at him, a sultry smirk on her lips. “I believe you know what to do, Captain.”

He went to work, delving between her folds. At the same time, he felt one of Emma’s hands move, slipping past his balls and teasing the sensitive spot just behind. “Is this okay?” he heard her ask.

Killian paused for a breath, earning a slight smack on the chest from Swan. “Keep going,” he urged, then followed his own advice.

Swan rode his face, her head thrown back as she writhed and undulated, her moans filling their bedroom. He wished for the use of his hand, to pull her down so as to fuck her dripping cunt with his tongue, to tease and fill her even a little with his fingers. He froze, though, when he felt Emma’s hand move further back, her nimble fingers teasing his ass. Swan smacked him again and he groaned. “Get back to work,” she ordered. “I get to come before you get anything else, understood? And you,” she told Emma, “get him ready. I want him nice and wide for me.”

The fire in his belly roared higher at the implication of those words. He started to lick her again but she grabbed his hair and pulled him back. Killian’s groin tightened – they rarely played so rough in the bedroom, but even this little tease was heavenly. “I asked,” Swan whispered, her voice like steel, “is that understood?”

“A-aye, ma’am,” Killian croaked, every bit of him wound tighter than a spring. Gods, but she’d be the end of him.

Her smile was sweet, but the look in her eyes was everything but. “Good boy,” she all but purred, releasing her tight grip and gently smoothing his hair back.

He was absolutely fucked.

Emma had completely abandoned his cock at this point in favor of fucking his ass with her fingers; at some point she’d coated her fingers with lube to ease her passage – and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was the warming sensation kind she liked. His cock ached for any sort of touch, bobbing back against his stomach every time she found that sensitive place inside him. He tried not to whine, tried to focus on making Swan come, but it was hard. _He_ was hard.

Why on earth had he ever thought fucking Emma and her double would be simple? That it would merely leave him satisfied? This wouldn’t come close to leaving him satisfied – it’d leave him ruined, wrecked for anyone else but her. He’d be left in pieces in the palm of her hand, the same hand that held his heart and kept it safe and well and loved.

Swan cried out as her orgasm swiftly overtook her. He lapped at her essence, cleaning her as her core rippled and shuddered above him. Killian felt Emma pause as Swan caught her breath, as if waiting for instructions on how to proceed next. “Is he ready?” Swan asked once she’d caught her breath.

“Almost,” Emma replied. “Tell me if it’s okay, Killian.”

He pushed against her hand and winced slightly. “Not yet, love.”

Swan huffed, moving away. “Put the cock ring on him and clean up,” she ordered Emma. “I’ll finish this while you get your turn.”

Emma pulled away and Killian whimpered at the loss. She went to wash her hands and Swan smiled, a bit more self-satisfied than before. “Here’s how this is going to work,” she said as she grabbed the lube and started prepping her fingers. “I’m going to let you go. Princess Sunshine Goody-Two-Shoes over there is going to put a cock ring on you, because you’re not allowed to come until I say so. But you’re going to fuck her. And I mean _fuck_ her, pirate. You’re going to give her your best alpha-male act while she’s all tied up, and all the while I’m going to be fucking _you_.”

Perhaps he was still dreaming. They’d woken him, but perhaps this was one of those dreams where one only _thought_ they woke up. Killian swallowed hard, trying to control the burning need to bury himself in her and then in Emma, fucking them both senseless. After all, only in his most private fantasies could a scenario such as this come to fruition.

Emma returned and in one hand she held the promised cock ring. Killian tried not to squirm in anticipation as she rolled it over his throbbing cock, a sigh escaping him as she settled it firmly around the base. Swan snapped her fingers and the rope freed itself from Killian’s wrists, slithering down the bed and looping itself snugly around Emma’s wrists. Her eyes were wide with shock and Killian wondered if they’d discussed this at all, or if Emma had even talked this scenario over in her head before taking the serum.

It took most of his willpower to tamp down his usual urges when it came to Emma: wooing and praising her, treating her well and ensuring she was well satisfied and eager for him before they arrived at the main event. Rarely had she asked for Captain Hook in her bed, and rarer did he want those traits to emerge, but it was what she’d asked for and he was ever her servant. Killian rolled and lunged, pinning her underneath him. He shifted her arms above her head, taking brief note that the enchanted rope chose to attach itself to the headboard before focusing on Emma again. “You’ve been quite wicked today,” he growled. He felt Swan’s eyes on them, felt her moving into position behind him. “Waking me with those lips wrapped around my cock, demanding I please half of you while the other watches. Such a wicked lass as yourself deserves punishment, no?”

Emma’s cheeks were flushed as she shook her head. “No, I just thought–”

“You thought denying me release would be _amusing_?” Killian asked. His hips were nestled firmly between her legs, her sex pressed hot against his aching cock. He wanted nothing more than to drive into her, make her scream for him so Swan would get on with it and let him come. “Does the thought of me bound and begging _gratify_ you?”

She bit her lip, her wide eyes blinking up at him in an innocent way that drove him mad. “It does,” she whispered, just as her double teased his ass and slid her slick fingers inside him. “I like it,” Emma continued, her voice still soft. “I like seeing you like that, it – it makes me feel more in control, more powerful.”

And here was the antithetical: Emma as a whole struggled with her doubts and her fears. He knew that and made himself available to lean on when she found herself wallowing. But where Swan knew what she wanted and went for it, Emma now held herself in check, or allowed herself to believe that Swan might have taken all of the strength that she possessed before their separation, brief though it was.

Killian kissed her softly, acknowledging the light slap of admonition on his arse from Swan with a groan; he wasn’t obeying orders, but at this particular juncture he didn’t care. “D’you know what I like, love?” he murmured. She shook her head, though he caught the corner of her mouth twitching as she hid a smile. “I think you do,” he said, shifting his hips; it was a double-edged sword, giving him easier access to slide into Emma but also pushing Swan’s fingers deeper inside of him. “I think that wicked little brain of yours knows that I like to hear you scream.”

He plunged in and Emma gasped, her body tightening under and around his. She quivered, her arms straining as she fought the rope to try and hold him. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she ignored the indignant “hey!” from Swan. Killian paused just long enough to let her relax, letting him know she was okay to go, then started to move.

He nibbled her ears, the side of her neck, sucking little marks here and there and marring that perfect skin. He’d calmed some since her torment of him earlier, but being inside of her just brought him right back to the edge. Though he could feel just how wet she was for him, he wanted to bring her to completion quickly – he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, cock ring or no.

He lifted himself up on his blunted arm, changing the angle to drive deeper into her core. “No coming,” Swan’s voice said in his ear, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed her sitting on her haunches, still fingering him and intensely – longingly? – watching him fuck her double. Her eyes snapped to his and he felt teeth gently biting on the lobe of his ear. _Magic_ , he realized. Emma occasionally brought magic into what she called their “play time”, and this particular trick wasn’t new to him. There had been one memorable morning where she had been the early riser for once and decided to torment him with teasing touches into wakefulness, all the while making breakfast and coffee in the kitchen.

Gooseflesh rippled across his skin as the invisible, magic lips kissed their way down his shoulder and paid special attention to each of the scars that littered his back. Emma moaned below him. “There,” she gasped. “Oh, do that again.”

He repeated the thrust, reveling in the deep moan that tore from her throat. “There’s a girl, almost got you, haven’t I? Remember, darling, nice and loud, want to hear you–”

She whined, her hands twisting uselessly as she once again tried to free herself. Killian hitched one of her legs up higher over his hip. A flush began to creep down her chest; he watched with interest as the rosy tint met her breasts and blended with her nipples. Leaning down, Killian took one rosy peak into his mouth and sucked hard, just as he felt Swan’s fingers twist inside him and phantom teeth sink into his backside. So overwhelmed with sensation was he that Killian almost missed Emma’s climax, the warmth of her core gripping and rippling around him like a vice. Her cries filled his ears and he slowed, not wanting to push himself over that edge just yet: he desperately wanted what Swan offered him in exchange for being good.

When Emma stilled below him, Killian leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Very good, lass,” he murmured, his breath hitching when Swan pulled away from him.

“And you’ve been a very good boy,” Swan said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Emma nodded, watching him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. “He’s always good,” she said, making Killian blush faintly.

Swan hummed, a disbelieving note in her tone. “Perhaps not always. Sometimes the captain is a little bit naughty. Sometimes I think the captain _wants_ to be punished.”

Emma twisted her hands and the rope fell away; Killian wondered about that, which of them was in control of it. She reached up to trace a line along his jaw and he leaned into her touch. “Is it a punishment if he wants it?” she asked, scratching her nails lightly through his scruff. “Seems to me like it’s a reward for being such a good boy.”

Something smooth and hard prodded his arse. Killian twisted and saw the Swan wearing the harness with the false cock. “That one’s new,” he commented, not recognizing it as one of their regular toys.

She smiled, a more gentle one than he’d seen on this incarnation before. “You didn’t think I’d fuck you without getting something in return, did you?”

He wondered at that before Emma whispered an explanation, something about it being able to be inside both of them at once, the Swan ordered him into position. Emma soothed him with kisses and feather light touches across his arms and chest as Swan entered him slowly. Even still, Killian had to breathe deeply so as not to come undone in mere seconds: every inch of him felt aflame, a burning need to move and mark both of them as his.

An impossible desire, even if there was only one Emma. She could bear the marks of his teeth and nails and beard, but such marks would fade. He wished he could brand himself on her heart, but even knowing their love was true, she could never be possessed by him.

No, he was the one wrapped up in her spell, bound only to her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m going to move,” he said through grit teeth.

Somehow.

It took some fumbling to get a rhythm, let alone one that made everyone feel good. Though he was half-wild from the need to come, Killian was rather determined to make sure both Emmas came at least once more before he allowed himself to. No matter how many lips, magical or otherwise, caressed and bit his skin; how many sets of nails gripped his arms or his hips; how many times Swan deemed it necessary to spank him, he wanted them to come first.

Her. One and the same.

When Swan turned on the vibrations in their shared false cock, he almost lost it. “Bloody fuck,” he gasped, faltering.

Emma reached between them to pleasure herself. “Come on, babe,” she said. He could feel her fingers circling her clit, and a little something extra –

“Magic?” Killian managed to ask, just as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. Not enough to come, but close.

She grinned cheekily as Swan raked her nails down his back. Killian’s toes curled as he felt his orgasm building at the base of his spine. Swan spanked him hard and that was the final straw. He fell to his elbows, dimly aware of other cries of pleasure outside his own, as he spent himself into Emma’s body. Even that proved too much, though he did his best not to crush her as he gave in to the boneless feeling of post-coital bliss.

His body was too numbed from over-stimulation to feel either woman remove herself from him, though he noticed the flash of blue-white light that signaled Emma becoming whole once more. He felt the bed dip and move as she got up, purportedly to clean herself, and then only became aware of feeling when she returned and soothed his skin with a damp washcloth.

Lips met his brow. “You still with me?” Emma asked softly.

He mumbled something, even he wasn’t sure what, and reached for her. She giggled, a musical sound he never tired of, as his hand found purchase and pulled her in snug. “Captain Hook the cuddler,” she mused, wriggling one arm free to play with his hair. “Who knew?”

“Don’t go spreading it around,” Killian mumbled, tucking himself in against her chest, weary and satiated. “Have a reputation to uphold.”

Emma hummed, amused, and pressed another kiss to his head as he fell back asleep.


	52. Desk Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all spoilers and speculation, as shady-swan-jones wanted deputy/sheriff sex.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was _extremely_ distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Killian’s mouth found her pulse hammering in her neck, his callused hand palming her hip. Emma groaned, working quickly on his shirt and vest buttons. She wanted him naked _now_.

But apparently he had other ideas. Killian’s shirt hung open as he switched their positions, lifting her slightly to perch on the desk and yanked her jeans and underwear down. Boots, socks, you name it – everything was flung across the room and Emma hardly had time to hope she could find her underwear before Killian was on his knees before her, nudging her thighs apart, and licking a long, slow stripe up her core.

He was relentless, alternating between fucking her with his tongue or lapping at her sensitive clit. Emma could only hang on for the ride, clutching the edge of the desk or his hair or his arm, whatever she could get her hands on. When her breath hitched and she gasped “ _There_ ”, Killian thrust two fingers inside of her. His tongue swirled around her clit as his fingers curled up, stroking that sensitive spot just inside. Emma saw stars as her pleasure crested, crashing over her and stealing her breath.

She hardly felt Killian withdraw, her skin tingling pleasantly as she drifted down from her high. She heard clothes rustling and cracked open one eye. “Can you take more?” he asked, his hand a comfortable pressure on her hip.

She nodded eagerly, looking down to see his cock jutting out proudly near her core. “Yes please.”

He had her lay back, her hair trailing off the edge of the desk. She used to feel self-conscious about being laid so open and exposed, but this was Killian. Her True Love, her best friend, her _husband_. She could never feel self-conscious around him, not with how often he took the time to detail exactly what he loved about every part of her. His lips parted as he drank in the sight of her spread out on his desk, his eyes roving over her pale form; he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, then positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance. The slow stretch of him made her moan as he pushed inside. She loved the visible strain on his face, the sight of how much he held himself in check so as not to hurt her in pursuit of his own pleasure. She reached for him and he laced their fingers together, his brace resting on her thigh as he started to thrust.

The desk shook under her but Emma wasn’t worried about it breaking. This wasn’t the first time (or the last) that they’d taken advantage of a late night and an empty station, and she’d magically reinforced everything ages ago.

Well, the magical reinforcement was more to protect against the various villains they locked up on the regular, but if it let her fuck her husband without worry of breaking, then she wasn’t about to complain.

Killian took their joined hands and pressed her fingers just above her mound. “Feel us, love?” he asked, his pace unrelenting even as he spoke. She nodded, her arousal spiking higher at feeling him both inside and outside all at once. “Feel me inside you, fucking you? Oh, Emma, tell me you feel it, I need to hear you tell me.”

“I feel it,” she croaked. Her throat was dry. “I feel you – I feel your cock fucking me. I feel you thrusting –”

Killian growled and pulled her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist almost automatically, just as his hand slid under her ass to give him more leverage. His brace was a hard comfort on the small of her back and her arms wrapped around his neck as she hung on. His breathing grew more erratic as he chased his high; a stack of files behind them crashed to the floor and they paid it no mind. Emma arched as a second orgasm overtook her and a few moments later Killian stilled with a low groan. Dimly, she felt him spill himself inside her and almost laughed when she realized that knowledge only made her want him again.

God, she was turning into some kind of insatiable sex addict.

But if the sex was this good, was she really going to complain about it?

“Might want to move,” she said finally. “I’m gonna stain everything.”

Killian lifted her easily, still seated inside her, and moved them both to another, cleared desk. “Apologies, darling, for making a mess of you.”

She poked his shoulder, giggling. “I happen to like it when you get me all messy.”

He looked at her, one eyebrow lifted with intrigue. “Oh aye?”

Emma bit her lip, completely failing to hide her smile or stop more giggles from escaping her. “Yeah. I really do.”

He made the face that told her he was filing that away for future use, then lightly pinched her ass before pulling out of her. “Give a man some time to recover, sweet. Then I’ll be more than happy to make as much of a mess over you as you’d like.”


	53. Pregnancy sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon wanted pregnancy sex and I am more than happy to oblige.
> 
> Thanks to betaTina for helping me get through my "I haven't written in a month because I was finishing my thesis and now I forget how to write non-academic papers" rut.

She leaned against the wall, arms resting loosely over her still-small belly as she watched him read on the couch. Theirs was a (mostly) quiet house, the only active TV up in Henry’s room and Henry spending a lot of his time at Regina’s these days. (Apparently they were, in his words, ‘nauseating’ and with how much Emma herself had _actually_ been nauseated recently, she didn’t blame him in the least for hightailing it out of there.) Sometimes she binged on HGTV with her feet up on Killian’s lap while he read, but there was something nice about a quiet house after a long day of breaking up shouting matches between dwarves.

Though, there was also something nice about disturbing the peace as well. And there had definitely been a distinct _lack_ of disturbing the peace as of late.

Something she was damn well determined to fix tonight.

Emma licked her lips, letting her baser instincts take over as she pushed off the wall. There was an extra sway in her hips as she stalked around the couch, a coy tilt to her head as she slid her fingers down the page of his book to get his attention. She watched as his lips twitched, his eyes following the line of her fingers up her arm and finally to her face. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey, sailor,” she replied, her voice husky. “Mind if I come aboard?”

Killian’s eyebrows went up; he seemed a bit awestruck as she dog-eared the page and closed the book, tossing it onto the coffee table behind her just before straddling his legs. His hand and brace went immediately to her hips and just that little bit of pressure, that little bit of warmth, sent her hormones spiraling. Emma cupped his face, her thumbs tracing the apples of his cheeks, and captured his lips in a kiss.

She pushed them back, pinning him to the back of the couch as she kissed and nibbled his lips, her hands moving from his jaw up to his hair. He groaned into her mouth as she tugged on the soft strands, his hips rocking up into hers, and it only made her burn hotter.

“Off,” she gasped, her hands moving to the god-awful number of buttons on his person.

Her kisses grew fiercer, more hurried. She nipped and nibbled, fingers fumbling for every button they could find, and he started pushing her back with his mouth. “Emma.”

Her name slipped out several times between kisses; she was going to be seriously annoyed if his tone didn’t change from “I need you to _stop”_ to “I need you to stop _before I come in my pants_.” She stopped, reluctantly as it was; her limbs felt heavy with lust as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Killian, what’s wrong?”

His expression sent a thrill down her spine: flushed cheeks, his hair a wreck from her enthusiastic pulling, kiss-swollen lips, and glassy eyes that really weren’t sure where to focus on.

She could eat him up like this. Why on earth was he making her _stop_?

“No, love, nothing – _bloody_ hell,” he bit out as she wriggled slightly in his lap. “Nothing wrong, just – _fuck_.”

“ _Killian_.” She tried to keep the whine from her voice, tried to lure him down the path of temptation by pressing her aching sex against his cock (his _hard_ cock, thank you very much), but found it difficult to grind against him in just the way he liked.

It wasn’t quite so roomy in his lap anymore, not with the bump adding some inches to her ever-vanishing waistline. Her pregnancy with Henry had gone way differently; while part of her suspected it had more to do with prison and the complete inability to satisfy her weird cravings, she embraced a more optimistic line of thought that it meant this one was a girl. But Killian kept talking about old wives tales and claiming it would be a boy and they were still a couple of weeks out from being able to tell the sex for sure, so it was going to be a point of contention (and a pain in her ass) for a little bit longer.

In the meantime, Emma was (mostly) over her morning sickness and fucking horny for the first time in _weeks_ , and her husband was _making her stop_.

“Emma, love, just hold a tick,” he said, his hand running in soothing circles on her side and his brace a comfortable weight on her hip. “Not that I don’t love the attention, but what’s brought this on?” She sat back, her lust cooling slightly as she stared at him. His brows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you seriously asking me why I’m trying to rip you out of your clothes right now?”

“Emma –” He looked at a loss for a moment before saying, “You’re with child.”

“Yeah, kind of aware of that.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, considering his next words carefully. “It’s not… unsafe?”

Any irritation she felt melted away at those words coupled with his worried frown and the gentle slide of his thumb across her belly. Killian’s doting ways had only increased after they found out she was expecting; he’d been a nervous wreck over her morning sickness, (another difference in this pregnancy: definitely not confined to mornings), and seriously going above and beyond to keep her happy and comfortable, even as she’d practically made herself a nest in the bathtub for those first several weeks. “Definitely safe,” she said. “You didn’t get to that part in all those books you got from Belle?”

She hoped her teasing tone would soothe the worried lines around his eyes, but his gaze dropped as he pulled her in close, resting his head between her breasts. “I did, but…”

Emma inhaled, breathing in his scent as she gently cradled his head and combed her fingers through his hair, taming it just a little. He’s gotten so much better over the last few years that sometimes she forgot how deep his fears and self-loathing ran. “You won’t hurt either of us, Killian, I promise. I wouldn’t even consider it if it wasn’t safe.” She pressed a kiss to the side of his head, gently easing him back so she could look at him properly. “I’m not saying we have to have the kind of crazy acrobatic sex that knocked me up in the first place,” he did smile at that, his eyes taking on a dreamy look as if remembering some of their more adventurous evenings while trying to conceive, “but I can tell you that right now? Not having your cock inside me right this second? Hurts way worse than anything else.”

A flash of guilt crossed his face, then morphed into one of his easy lopsided smiles. “Then far be it from me to deny my beautiful wife anything that eases her discomfort.”

She caught a bit of worry, a bit of lingering guilt, still in his eyes, but found herself giggling as he tilted them over sideways to lay across the couch. She threw one leg over his hip to draw him as snug against her as she could, all things considered. But he didn’t make any further moves to entertain her seduction; rather, he stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flitting from her own to her nose to her lips, as if memorizing the details. (As if he didn’t already have every freckle committed to memory.) “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, love?”

Emma fought a losing battle to keep from smiling. “Only like six times a day since we found out.”

“Just six? Pity, I should increase that.”

She hummed a happy sigh as he placed reverant kisses along her nose and cheeks and every patch of skin he could reach. He murmured praise into her ear as he worked his hand up her tank top, telling her how she glowed softly, as if dressed in moonbeams and naught else. He paused when she hissed, his hand resting on one breast. “What?” he asked, a note of panic in his voice.

“Just – easy on the tits. They didn’t get the memo.”

“Emma –”

“Killian, if you stop I _will_ spontaneously combust. Or I’ll fuck myself and make you watch. And not touch. And no touching yourself either.” He actually whimpered, her threat landing right where she’d wanted it to. “Just don’t touch my boobs, okay?”

He nodded, mumbling an apology. She kissed the tip of his nose and his hand slid down her ribs, leaving a trail that felt more like a brand in its wake. Though she only wore a tank top and leggings, she really did feel like she was about to burst into flames; she wasn’t sure if it was the hormones, the dry spell, both, or some combination of other things, but she needed to be naked. Now.

Emma snapped her fingers and their clothes vanished in a swirl of magic, leaving Killian to level one of his amused eyebrow quirks at her. “Impatient, darling?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He chuckled and urged her to roll over so that her back rested against his front. She tried not to wriggle with glee – seriously, the man knew what he was doing with foreplay, but she was way past the need for that right now – and her breath quickened with anticipation. God, it had been weeks – _months_ , really – since they’d been together, she hadn’t known how much she’d missed this until her body was practically begging for him to fuck her.

Gently, he lifted her leg back over his own, his cock laying hot and heavy against her inner thigh. She swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly very dry and her core clenching at the prospect of being filled once more. She felt him nudge her entrance, then pause. She heard him take a shaky breath. “Are you _sure_ this is okay?” Killian asked.

Instead of responding, Emma shifted and felt the head of his cock slip inside. Killian groaned, burying his face into her shoulder. She took his hand and laced their fingers together, started to pull him closer but he’s already there, guiding, gliding down to follow along the soft curve of her belly, lips tracing a similar path up along the column of her throat, along her jaw. And it’s nice — it’s _more_ than nice, warmth blossoming in her chest and her heart stuck right up against her sternum, but it also made fire ignite under her skin and caused her toes to curl against his calf. She tightened her leg around his, nudged him up and shifted her hips down to take him in a little deeper — 

“ _Gods_ ,” he grit out, teeth nipping at the shell of her ear and oh, _oh_ , fuck that felt good, made her stomach twist and her sex flutter pleasantly around his cock. “Love, you’re not being fair here.” 

She was too wired to tease, to even retort that _he_ was being unfair, but clenched around him again as she pushed her hips down again, drawing him in that last little bit until he was fully seated inside her. His lips found her pulse and he murmured something against her skin just before he pulled back, leaving just the head of his cock in, and reversed the motion.

The air in her lungs left in a harsh exhale, pleasure rippling up and down her body. “Please,” she bit out. “More, please.”

She felt him shift behind her, propping himself up on his arm as he pulled her in as close as he could. “Oh, Swan, how glorious you are.”

She absolutely did _not_ whimper as he thrust back in, his words and his movements only fanning the flames higher. She felt him hesitate and yanked on his hand, clutching his arm to her chest in a silent plea to keep going, that he wasn’t hurting her, that she was so, _so_ close to coming already that it was almost embarrassing.

So he did.

“My lovely Swan, my dear one, you’re already going to come for me aren’t you?” he murmured, right in her ear and sending goosebumps shivering down her neck, that _asshole_. Her breath hitched as he started a rhythmic thrust, her grip changing on his hand to hold on for dear life. “That’s it, sweet, feel that? Feel me inside you? Oh, love, feel us together, feel my cock in your sweet cunt.”

Her core clenched at his sweet, dirty words and he chuckled through a groan. “My wife likes that, doesn’t she? She likes it when filth drips like honey from my tongue.” He licked a long stripe up her neck and she shivered hard, the first sparks of orgasm building inside. “I miss your honey, Swan, shall I have a taste later? Feast on that sweet nectar, our combined taste in your cunt?”

His cock hit a sweet spot and Emma cried out. “God, harder, do that again _please_!”

Killian’s words fell away as he did as she bid, and soon she was coming, her body shivering hard as the inferno under her skin burned hotter. She knew before it was over that this wouldn’t be enough, she needed to come again before they could be done. “Again, Killian, I need –”

“There’s my pirate,” he all but growled, and Emma cried out when he _slammed_ up into her.

He wasn’t too rough, though, and he moved their hands over her belly often enough that she knew he remembered to hold back just a little. She wouldn’t last long, her body too keyed up and still floating on her last high, and his pace only pushed her higher. He sucked on her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin, and she led their joined hands down to where he fucked into her again and again.

He growled right in her ear, his breathing coming out in harsh pants, as she circled her clit with her fingers and his hand adjusted her leg back over his again. Then he knocked her hand out of the way, a rasping “ _Mine_ ” in her ear, before gently pinching her clit between two fingers.

Emma whined deep in her throat, feeling her orgasm start to coil deep inside while she brought her fingers up to let Killian lick them clean. His tongue swept over the digits, rough and teasing all at once. “Come, love, come on my cock, I’ve missed you so. I need to feel you come on my cock again –”

She screamed as she came, Killian’s arm holding her tight against him as she convulsed, as stars were born and died under her skin, as she felt him go stiff as he followed her into bliss, coating her walls with his seed.

They both sagged, spent, and he made no move to leave the warm embrace of her body. Emma shifted enough to let her head rest easily, her body twisted in such a way that it would probably be uncomfortable in a little bit but for right now she just wanted to bask in this long-awaited afterglow.

Peace? Disturbed.

His hand rested against her belly almost protectively. A puff of air just behind her ear made her shiver, warmth against rapidly cooling sweat, and he kissed her just under her jaw. “How’s the wee one?”

“She’s good,” Emma murmured, covering his hand with hers. She felt sleepy and sated, content to lay here in his embrace forever if she could, twisted position be damned. “Mom’s happy, too.”

Killian chuckled. They both made quiet noises of protest as he pulled his cock from her body. “Well, I’m glad to hear that Mum’s happy. And I’m sure our boy’s happy that his mum’s happy too.”

Emma groaned playfully, lightly smacking the back of his hand. “Pain in my ass,” she grumbled, even as she shifted again; she felt her spine protesting, which meant the baby probably wouldn’t like it either, and snuggled into his embrace.

His hips tilted against her ass. “Oh, I think you like it when I’m a pain in your arse, shall we try that again later?”

“Oh my God.”

He started laughing and Emma lost the battle with her composure, dissolving into giggles. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his palm. “I love you,” she said, replacing their joined hands over her belly.

She wasn’t entirely sure if the flutter there was movement or orgasm aftershocks, couldn’t remember if it was too soon to tell or not, but decided not to get him all worked up again over what might be nothing. Killian nudged her fingers apart, squeezing them between his own, and kissed her shoulder. “I love you, sweet. Both of you.”


	54. Based on an outfit...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JMO's last photo from her trailer, where she was wearing a very-much-see-through dress, inspired some smut.

He glances up, alerted to her presence by the exaggerated way she clears her throat. All rational thought flies out of his head; his mouth falls open; he drinks her in like a man dying of thirst, this ethereal goddess he’s so blessed to call his wife. Her golden hair falls in loose waves down her back and over the pale shift hanging loosely over her lithe form. It does little to conceal the scraps of fabric she calls underthings, something she’s very aware of if her sly little smile is anything to go on.

She’s crossing the study in slow, sure steps, then she plucks the book from his hands with a murmured remark about climbing aboard. He barely has time to say “ _Yes_ ” before her mouth covers his, swallowing the word as she straddles his legs and braces herself on his shoulders.

He loves her in the mornings, when she’s sleepy and soft, curling into him and pressing her cold toes against his shins, convincing him (with very little effort) to stay in bed just a while longer. He loves her at lunchtime, when she steals him away to the one blind spot in the sheriff’s office to kiss him breathless, to untuck his shirt and unzip his trousers, to beg him to take her hard and fast against the wall before anyone can see. He loves her in the middle of the night, when they wake each other up after nightmares, when they hold one another and whisper words of comfort until the blanket of sleep claims them once more.

But this, he loves this almost most of all, when she’s seductive and demanding -- when her lips are hard against his, when she’s biting and sucking at every inch of skin she can reach -- when she dresses in her most scandalous outfits -- he could rip this shift as if it were made of tissue paper if he wanted -- when Emma Swan just  _wants_ and  _takes_ and he’s oh so very willing to give her all he has and more.

When they join, a hurried thing that has them both whimpering with need, he does tear the shift a bit, the seam snapping when he tugs too hard. The sound of fabric tearing does something to her, urges her to ride him faster and kiss him harder. She never gives him a chance to reciprocate, her kisses fast and wet on his lips, cheeks, neck, wherever she can reach. He is caught in the cyclone of Emma, Emma, Emma, whisked away to overwhelming pleasure as she convulses around him and he spills himself deep into her womb.


	55. Suckin' Dicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonny wanted some uncircumcised blowjobs, so here's some s4 hiatus bj's.

There are a lot of questions Emma still feels are too weird to ask and keeps her mouth shut about – how did people get ringlets in the Enchanted Forest? Did corsets  _ever_ get more comfortable or were there some spleen issues her mom needed to see a doctor about? Was virginity as overrated there as it was here? How did anyone survive before tampons? Or Advil? How many expensive foreign vases given as gifts from ambassadors would she have been allowed to break in a princessy tantrum? Can Granny teach her how to shoot that crossbow sometime?

“Hey, did you know that yours is the second uncut dick I’ve ever seen?” is one she never expected to think up, and she definitely doesn’t voice that aloud.

(Really, thinking about her ex in this scenario shouldn’t happen  _at all_ , but she does have him to thank for knowing what to do in this scenario.)

As irritating as not having her own place is, half the fun of these stolen moments in Killian’s rented room is seeing how far they can go before Granny gives them dirty looks at breakfast the next morning. An inn run by wolves is not an inn that allows for very much privacy, but Emma’s determined not to let that stop her from seeing if after talking the talk Killian can walk the walk.

(Oh, he  _definitely_ can walk the walk. Some mornings Emma isn’t sure  _she_ can walk the walk of shame back to the loft.)

But  _this_ , she decides as she slowly strips him of all the layers of clothing he insists on wearing to cover up that strong, lean body, is uncharted territory.

Sort of.

Killian always insists on making these encounters all about  _her_ and  _her_ pleasure – which is great, she’s not complaining about that, she can count on one hand the number of guys who have ever gone down on her without prompting – but he seems… shy? About letting her reciprocate? He doesn’t mind her hands on him at all, (seems to encourage it, the man loves having his ass grabbed), but any hint of a blowjob has him insisting he needs to be inside her  _right this minute_  and offering up a condom.

Which, okay, she’s also not complaining about.

But dammit, she  _likes_ giving blowjobs – she’s pretty great at them, actually, if her past encounters are anything to go on, and she’s eager to see if she passes muster with him. There’s something about tongues that lets them find all the hidden pleasure spots on a cock and she knows for a fact that she hasn’t come close to finding all of his secrets.

Not to mention, it’s been a while since she’s handled someone this large, and uncircumcised to top it off, and it’s kind of a challenge she’s set for herself.

Killian utters a desperate, harsh curse as her hand wraps around his cock. “Emma–”

She hums, pleased that she’s already got him this wrecked. “Yes?” she asks sweetly, gently pulling the skin up over the head and earning a broken moan in response. Her free hand works his pants down around his thighs and she drops to her knees in front of him. “Did you want something, Killian?”

She flicks her tongue out, licking up the drop of precum leaking from the tip, and he lets out a guttural, “No, no,  _no_ , Emma  _stop_ –”

She sits back on her heels, releasing him; the rejection stings but she tries not to let it show on her face. The worried crease between his brows says she’s failing. “What’s wrong?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds.

“I don’t –” It’s hard for him to speak and if she wasn’t so put-out then she’d find this incredibly hot: shirt and pants barely hanging on, sweat glistening on his skin, hook embedded into the wall, Killian out of breath and at a loss for words for the first time in his life. “I don’t want to – to degrade you as such, love.”

Now it’s her turn to be at a loss for words. She gapes a little, staring hard and trying to figure out just what the  _hell_ he’s talking about, when he glances away, the flush on his cheeks spreading up to the tips of his ears. “Please, don’t tempt me.”

Some of her confusion clears up: he  _does_ want this, if the sight of her on her knees and her mouth open can affect him as such. But– “Okay, I’m gonna need a bit more to go on that this,” she says. “I’ve been trying to suck you off for  _weeks_ , Killian, and you’re what, too much of a gentleman to let me?”

“Emma–” He looks pained, then dislodges his hook from the wall. He winces as he slides to the floor, still half-naked, cock still at attention and damn if Emma doesn’t want to give it the attention he wants. “Look, lass, it’s not… becoming of a lady of your stature. I’ve paid doxies for less, but even the loosest slattern in Tortuga would suck a man’s cock for free.”

“Okay.” She blinks at him, suddenly very aware (again) of just how very different their worlds are. Well, in most ways. It’s not like there aren’t people like that here (she’s a teenage runaway, she’s seen her fair share of desperate people) but this  _isn’t_ the seventeen hundreds and she  _isn’t_ some loose slattern in Tortuga. “But I just want you to know, I don’t think it’s degrading. Even though I’m technically a princess, I wasn’t raised one. I was raised here, where sucking a man’s cock is pretty normal foreplay, and it’s something that I happen to like. I’m actually pretty good at.”

He’s still flushed but he meets her eyes. “You  _like_ it?”

She nods. “It’s kind of a turn-on. But it’s your call. If you’re not comfortable, I won’t push it.”

It feels like he’s trying to find something with how intently he’s searching her eyes with his. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and she can see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well, Swan,” he says, the wobble in his voice giving away his nerves, “I’d say let’s see if you live up to that bluster.”

She smiles. “Up on the bed.”

He obeys; it’s easier this way, and she manages to get his pants all the way off while he gets comfortable. It takes a few brisk strokes to get him fully erect once more; once she feels his eyes on her, she slows her pace, dragging the foreskin up and squeezing just enough below the tip to pop the hidden ridge. Killian’s breathing quickens again as she repeats the motion a few more times. It’s practically staring her down, this red and weeping cock, daring her to take it in her mouth, and Emma Swan is not one to back down from a challenge.

She licks up the precum, teasing the slit with a few swirls of her tongue, before taking the whole head into her mouth. Killian’s groan can probably be heard halfway across town but Emma can’t bring herself to care right now. She takes him in a little at a time, her hand still gripping the shaft and working him up as she relaxes her jaw. Her tongue traces the veins it can find and she hums when his hand works its way into her hair.

It takes her a moment to realize he’s murmuring encouragements, telling her how good she feels, how sweet her mouth is, how no one’s found this many sensitive spots before. She pays particular attention to the spots his foreskin leaves exposed, making note of the kinds of gasps and whines of pleasure he makes when her tongue runs circles along his skin.

She lets her hand drop to fondle his balls and Killian’s hand in her hair tightens as he hisses out a, “ _Gods, Swan–_ ” but nothing prepares her for the cry he lets out when she takes him in fully, the head of his cock brushing the back of her throat. It’s been a long time since she’s tried this so it doesn’t last more than a few bobs of her head, but it seems to be enough because she feels him pulse just a moment before the briny taste of his seed shoots into her mouth. He’s pulling out even as he comes, and the result is lines of the stuff dripping down her chin and across her sweater.

It takes her a minute to realize what happened, then she starts to laugh. Killian, leaning back on his elbows and catching his breath, looks up. He starts to say something – probably apologize – but Emma shakes her head, still giggling. After another moment, Killian starts to laugh too. As she wipes her face off with the bottom of her sweater – it’s destined for the wash now anyway, at least she’s wearing a camisole underneath – Emma decides that she’s pretty sure of all the sounds he’s made tonight, that one’s her favorite.

* * *

 

“Sheriff, who do I call to make a noise complaint to when you’re the one making the noise?” Granny asks as they come down to the diner in the morning.

Emma, dressed in her jacket, camisole and jeans from last night, and with her desperately-in-need-of-washing hair in a ponytail under her beanie, is relieved to see the diner’s empty – it’s just after the morning rush and too early for the brunch crowd – though she suspects Granny wouldn’t loudly embarrass her in front of the breakfast crew.

Quietly, yes. With pointed looks and innuendo that made even Killian blush.

“Sorry, Widow Lucas,” Killian says gallantly, taking a seat at the bar. “What say we order the farmer’s breakfast as penance?”

Granny rolls her eyes, setting down the coffee pot harder than strictly necessary as she bustles over to get clean mugs. “Penance is not finding your room trashed again, pirate. I hear enough around this joint without having to put visuals to it.”

Emma busies herself behind a newspaper someone left behind, trying to hide her burning cheeks and wondering when she might be able to convince her parents to have a night on the town so she and Killian might have some privacy at the loft.


	56. Dark Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't happy. This nosedived right into the angst pool. Dark Ones hatesex, basically.

Loathing rolls off of him in waves. In another time, another place, he might be the inspiration for a demon with fire in his eyes and smoke curling from his nostrils. Every breath, every sneer, every step is full of hatred towards Emma Swan.

Let him hate her. No one hates her more for this decision than she hates herself.

She couldn't let him die, so she made him live. A shell of a man, his soul gone and replaced with a void of bloodthirst and fury.

For weeks she's done nothing but try to bring him back. For a while, it worked. Block out the darkness, keep up the facade, let him late her, let him fear her… but now? His body remains, but now there's nothing of Killian left. She's watched from the shadows, practiced spells and charms and reached into the depths of her magic, but --

Nothing.

Killian Jones is gone. The Dark One is all that remains, standing at the foot of his bunk and sneering at her, poison spilling from his lips as he curses her again and again for refusing to let him die, refusing his dying wish and turning him into the very thing he spent centuries trying to destroy.

Let him hate her. He could never hate her more than she hates herself.

She needs him and she hates herself -- _for being so weak -- but_ _love is strength -- love brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment -- I love you -- a piercing-eyed pirate who loves you -- love, love,_ love --

Emma closes her eyes and screams, cutting Hook's rant off and driving the endless mocking voices in her head into silence. Blindly, she reaches for him, desperate for anything to silence her demons, and when her fingers find his coat's buttery soft lapels, she pulls him towards her and presses her lips against his.

This worked before, in Camelot, a simpler time before everything got royally fucked to hell --

He growls and for a heartbeat she worries she's crossed a line (Dark Ones can't die, _Dark Ones can't die_ , Dark Ones can't... kill each other? Can they?) but his brace falls heavy on her hip and his hand grips her hair too tightly as he doesn't kiss her so much as devour her lips in response. She feels him, thick and hard through his jeans, as he yanks her against him and pulls her head to the side to better maul her mouth. When she pulls back briefly to catch her breath, her ruby red lipstick is smeared around his mouth, making him look even bloodier and more deranged than before, his long hair falling into his eyes as he assesses her with a critical, if slightly mad, eye.

He kisses her again -- no, it’s not a kiss, it’s a mashup of mouths and teeth and tongues, and God help her but the fury of it all burns some of her shame away and leaves wetness pooling between her thighs. Her breasts ache, heavy and full as her desire grows and she paws at his clothes, trying to rip them from his body and merge herself with him. She _wants_ him, God help her, but there are no gods here, nor mortals, only two immortals with the power to level entire continents at their very fingertips and enough hate to fuel them for several lifetimes.

It seems that she isn’t the only one impatient for some kind of release, some relief from this agony inside. Red smoke envelops them and they're left standing in nothing more than bare skin; there's a faint shimmer to hers that's absent on his, but where she shines it seems as if there’s darkness radiating from under his. And there is, she knows there is, but to feel like it’s actually, literally pouring out from him…

He can hate her all he wants. She’s never hated herself more.

“I want you,” she says, her voice low and fierce and she feels like she’s shattering into a hundred pieces that only he can put back together. She’s reaching for him, pushing him back with the force of her kiss and her nails leaving long, angry red lines on his arms and back. His groan ends in another growl, and then he snarls as he takes control.

Nothing about him promises gentle and nothing about her _wants_ gentle; he forces her around and presses his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down until she's resting her elbows on the bunk's thin mattress. She feels the cool, sharp tip of his hook drawn along her flank, hard enough to scratch but not enough to cut; she shivers as it dips lower, then closer, to her core. He kicks her legs apart and she gasps as he trails his fingers through her folds, humming with grim satisfaction at the wetness he finds there. "We fucked away our demons once before, didn't we, pet?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous; as he speaks, she feels him dragging the head of his cock against her core.

She doesn't get a chance to respond as his cock finds its mark, sliding in easily. She chokes back a sound, hot tears stinging her eyes; she _misses_ him, she _needs_ him, she _wants_ him -- and the worst of it is that he's right here but it's not _him_.

She hates herself for taking this meager offering, the shell of the man she loves, she hates that she's still manipulating him even now. She hadn’t come to parley or to listen to him berate her some more for refusing his dying wish, she’d come for _him_ . She craves him, the feel of his hand on her body -- the same hand that now grips her hip hard enough to bruise as his hips piston into hers -- and the warmth of his body against hers. She won’t get the latter, she knows that much, but she’ll take what little comfort this encounter provides. She knows that lust remains -- they did fuck their demons away for a little while in Camelot, before vengeance resurfaced and Killian cast his curse -- that his body still wants her body, but still… she misses _him_. “I want you,” she says again, and whether it’s a reminder to him or to herself, she doesn’t know.

He doesn’t respond except to grunt. His hand is on her back again, pressing her down further against the mattress, and the angle changes to something sinfully good. Emma pushes back, meeting him thrust for thrust; her tightly bound hair begins to fall from its pins as she grips the threadbare sheets and uses the bunk as leverage to fuck him just as hard as he’s fucking her.

He didn’t come to her to be fucked, after all.

“Emma.”

Her name falls softly from his lips and she almost stops, her heart leaping into her throat. She cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, taking in her way he looks… softer? Just a little, the darkness receding enough that his wild blue eyes look… steadier.

“Killian.”

“ _Emma_.”

His hand finds her breast and finally she cries out, the tears burning in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. He’s here, he’s still in there somewhere, Killian, her Killian -- “Harder, _please_ ,” she begs, fumbling for a moment before covering his hand with hers.

Sparks of pleasure begin building where their bodies join, spreading out slowly like ripples in a pond. It makes her feel languid, makes her want to slow their pace so she can enjoy this, but she needs this hard and fast to keep him with her. His fingers fan out and hers lace neatly in the spaces between and she _almost_ starts to cry at this little touch, but then he’s hauling her up against him; he lifts her enough so her knees are on the bed and her back rests against his chest and she chokes out a sob as he holds her and fucks away all of their demons at once. “ _Killian_.”

His mouth is on her neck and he’s here, oh God he’s still in there somewhere, she can save him. She can still save him and end all of this, end the Darkness and they can go back to their lives, start their future. She grips his brace with her other hand, riding him as her head falls back against his shoulder and he marks her skin with his tongue and teeth.

Little sparks turn to larger ones as his cock hits her g-spot, turning specks of pleasure into a sea of stars, waves of it crashing over her as she finally comes. She grips his hand tightly as she rides it out, his name on her lips as her body stutters and quivers around him. After a moment, she feels him come too, his body stiff behind her and his breathing harsh against her neck. He slides out of her and she mourns his loss. She winces as she tries to move, her knees locked and sore even from that short amount of time, and the movement causes some of his come to slide from her body and dribble onto her thighs. “Killian,” she starts, turning to look at him, but her next words die on her lips as she takes him in.

So much for fucking their demons away.

“A pretty, blonde distraction once again, Swan,” he says, his voice cold and his eyes hard once more.

“No,” she whispers, reaching for him just as red smoke envelops her and shields him from view.

When it clears, she’s on her own bed, in her own house -- the house he picked for her with Henry, the house meant to symbolize their future together -- wearing nothing at all but the remains of their evening tryst on her thighs. As cold as she feels -- a user and used in return, rejected and sent to her room for misbehaving, a scorned lover with no one to blame but herself -- her tears are hot on her cheeks as she finally, finally breaks, curling into herself on the bed and wishing for the umpteenth time that Dark Ones could cry themselves to sleep.


	57. Fluffy Anniversary Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deathbycaptainswan wanted fluffy anniversary smut. I wrote fluffy anniversary smut.

If there’s anything he’s learned in their time together, married or not, it’s that he and his wife’s attitudes towards the morning could not be further apart. He’s had decades of little sleep and early mornings as a slave, a servant, a soldier, and finally a captain; at this point, sleeping much past the sunrise is cause for concern. Emma, meanwhile, requires careful handling, preferably with kid gloves, coffee, and a thick skin against her rather inventive curses. More often than not, she completely ignores his gentle urging to rise and prepare for the day, instead favoring her pillow and burying her head under it.

Most days he’ll let her have a bit of a lie-in. He prepares their breakfast and has the coffee ready for her, and then goes to rouse the Emma-shaped lump bundled under their covers and their pillows.

But some days, like this one, he likes to lay with her, ignoring the rumbling in his belly and the voice in the back of his mind reminding him what Emma is like when her addiction to caffeine is left unsated. Some days, like this one, he’s fallen prey to a different kind of hunger, and the need for a different desire to be sated. Some days, like this one, he ignores his survivalist instincts and does the one thing guaranteed to lead to his doom:

Some days, like this one, he wakes his wife.

Emma whines in protest as he presses kisses to her shoulder, burrowing under the pillow and the mass of blankets she insists on (else she’d cling to him all night for warmth, and while he doesn’t mind, they’re both prone to night terrors and neither wish to bruise the other if it comes to thrashing). “Early,” she mumbles, the sound further muffled by her little fortress of softness and down feathers. “Sleep.”

He smiles at the sound, then follows her under the covers, peeking at her from under the edge of the pillow. In the dim light, he can see her brow is furrowed, a little frown on her face, as she attempts to seek solace in slumber once more. “Happy anniversary, sweetling,” he whispers, nudging her hand with his nose.

“’s not our anniversary,” she grumbles. “It’s October. Anniversary in May.”

For all her grumbling and whining, she’s not quite so bad as Liam had been in the mornings: for instance, she at least knows what day it is, and isn’t prone to leaping out of bed in a panic about a missed appointment or duty.

Though Emma does have a tendency to keep her morning schedules clear for this reason.

“It’s  _an_ anniversary,” Killian tells her. “Our first date, do you remember?”

“No,” she tells him firmly and he chuckles.

“No? You don’t remember the pink dress you wore, or the rose I gave you?”

“Nope.”

She’s stalling, doing her best to ignore him and go back to sleep, but he saw the way her lips twitched, the way she’d fought to keep from smiling–and thus encouraging him. “Pity,” Killian says. “You don’t even remember when I took you home? The regret in your voice when you couldn’t invite me in? I wish you could remember, love, so you could tell me why you were so full of regret that I couldn’t come in.”

One eye cracks open and there’s a definite smile, however faint, and she shakes her head as much as their situation allows. “Sorry. No idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles softly and reaches for her. She starts to whine but he shushes her softly. “I just want to hold you, darling. Come on up from under your nest, it’s stifling under here.”

As they right themselves on top of their pillows, Emma rolls over to press her back against his front. Her hand finds his when he drapes his arm over her middle, holding her snug.

True, it may be far from what he desires, but he’s not  _un_ happy with the rare prospect of holding her while she falls asleep once more. He buries his nose in her hair, breathing her in and letting her scent send a wave of calm through him. Her grip on his hand doesn’t loosen, but her breathing slows and evens out, and he feels her relax against him. To his own surprise, he starts feeling drowsy once more; it’s rare that he can fall asleep after waking up, but perhaps Emma’s found some sort of loophole in his biology, some magic key to tricking him into having a bit of a lie in.

Then her hand moves.

He’s dimly aware of it, his mind in that hazy between-lands of sleep and wakefulness, but it happens so suddenly and then ceases that he thinks she’s just twitching in her sleep.

It happens again, this time moving his hand with hers.

Killian opens his eyes, though his view is obscured by the mass of snarled golden hair in front of him. He tries to focus, willing his mind to awareness; Emma’s breathing is still shallow, but it’s coming much more quickly now. Her hand is slowly moving his upwards and his fingers brush the undersides of her breast. “I thought you were sleeping,” he whispers as she guides his hand to cup her breast fully, the soft material of her thin camisole belying the softness of her skin.

“Who says I’m not?” she asks, her tone amused.

He hums, nosing her hair aside to suckle a mark on the back of her neck. She sighs happily, her hand squeezing his and encouraging him to touch and tease her breasts through her shirt. “If this is a dream,” he whispers, rolling her back slightly to look at her, “then let me make it one to remember.”

He kisses her then, swallowing her groan as his hand slides under the material of her shirt to pinch and roll a nipple between his fingers. Her breasts are pert and full, the tips already tightened to firm peaks, and as much as he wants to keep kissing her, keep sliding his tongue along hers and tasting her gasps at every pinch, he feels a need to wrap his lips around those taut peaks. Emma whines when he moves, but her hand buries itself in his hair as he lightly drags his teeth against a nipple, sucking it into his mouth and rolling the bud on his tongue. “I want–” she stops, hissing and arching against him as he sucks harder, her grip in his hair tightening. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” she says as he switches breasts.

His hand goes right for the apex of her thighs and finds her center warm and wet and inviting. Emma mutters curses as he sucks marks onto her breasts and his fingers tease her clit and her entrance. He undulates, rubbing his erection against her in search of a little friction, some kind of relief. The sounds she makes… “Gods,” he says, releasing her breast and kissing her lips again.

She breaks away when he shifts her, trying to position her so he can fuck her and kiss her at once. “My spine doesn’t go that way,” she tells him, untangling herself from him and lifting her leg up over his.

His cock rests on her thigh, the heat of her sex so close he can almost taste it. Emma reaches between her legs, gripping his shaft and dragging the head through her wetness. Killian buries his face in the crook of her neck, then buries his cock into her warm, welcoming body. “ _Fuck_ , I love you,” he says.

Her leg tangles with his, pulling him up and deeper inside. He feels her fingers brushing against his cock when he pulls out and he knows her hand rests just on her mound; she likes to feel him this way, feel his cock sliding in and out of her body and the movement of it from the outside. Her fingers tease him and, in turn, tease her clit, nudging her closer to her peak. “Just like that,” she whispers, molding her back to his front. “Just like that, fuck.  _Killian_.”

He’s already close and keeps the pace steady; he recognizes that pitch in her voice, the hitch that tells him she just needs him to keep doing what he’s doing and she’s putty in his hand. “I love you,” he whispers, running his hand along her hip, across her stomach. “I love you, I love you, I love you –”

He keeps it up, whispering his love for her into her ear as she pants in time with his thrusts. He feels her arm moving, knows she’s playing with herself and close to climax.

Killian feels her walls ripple and latches on to the junction of her neck, sucking hard and Emma cries out, shattering around him as he fucks her through it. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts before he comes, spilling his seed into her quivering body. Emma shudders, aftershocks rippling through her and squeezing his cock. He groans at the feeling, nuzzling her neck as his blood calms; sometimes he’s jealous of how long her orgasms last, (some of the good ones upwards of half a minute, and she’s keyed up for ages after), whereas his own peak and fall just as suddenly. He supposes it’s the gods’ way of making up for some of the less pleasant aspects of womanhood, but it doesn’t make him wonder any less what it’s like.

Emma dislodges herself from him, rolling onto her stomach with a sigh. She tucks her arms up under the pillow and looks at him with a sleepy, sated look on her face. “Love you,” she mumbles.

“Back to sleep, love?” he asks.

She hums, looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary and is planning on sleeping her forbidden meal off. “You’ve sufficiently tired me out, Captain.”

He laughs and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I might clean you a bit, love, but if your vocabulary is that sharp then perhaps I haven’t tuckered you out as much as you’d like me to believe.”

She chuckles, the sound muffled by the pillow, as he slides from under the covers to go clean himself. “Give me some time to wake up and I’ll show you just how I wanted our first date to end.”


	58. CS Movie Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous wanted some really detailed stuff, but basically it all boils down to past!Hook and Emma smut while Killian watches.

“I just got tired of waiting.”

He needs to get out of here. Emma and his past self are murmuring to each other, teasing and flirting tones intersected by the wet sounds of hungry kisses. Killian falters at that, jealousy burning in his chest. He looks over his shoulder as Emma’s eyes meet his, silently urging him to leave,  _now_ , while she keeps Hook distracted.

_Distracted_. With that lovely mouth and her hands running across his chest and those breasts pushed up so delectably…

Gods what he wouldn’t give to remember this encounter from Hook’s point of view.

Hook turns, Emma still in his arms, and Killian lunges under his desk, trying to keep quiet while knowing that any scuffle or creak could be explained by the ship’s gentle rock in the harbor or one of the many rodents or rat-catchers living on board. Emma’s cloak hits the floor, followed closely by Hook’s greatcoat. “Up you get, love,” Hook murmurs and Killian winces as he sees Emma, or rather her feet and skirts, lifted and then deposited on the desk above him. “Now, why does such a pretty lass like you wear so many clothes?”

“Keeps every pirate from stealing what isn’t his?”

To anyone else Emma sounds confident and coy, but Killian hears the slight waver in her voice that betrays her nerves and he knows his past self is too drunk to pick up on that. Is she nervous about what’s to come, or that he’s still here to witness it?

He hears Hook’s chuckle, recognizes it as the throaty, cocksure one that means he’s got his sights set on a mark. “Now, now, darling, it’s not stealing if it’s given willingly.” Emma hums and the table rocks slightly above Killian; the sound of more kissing makes him burn, this time not only with jealousy but with arousal. “Is this not willing?” Hook asks somewhere above him. “If this is not freely given, tell me now and I’ll grant you leave.”

Emma’s breath hitches and Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He doesn’t know what he wants her to say, to stay or to make some excuse so they can escape.

“It’s freely given.”

She squeaks not a half second after and the kissing sounds above turn more frantic, more desperate. Emma’s skirts move, shifting up and revealing her boots and the backs of her legs and –  _Oh, bloody hell._

“Someone’s very wet.”

Emma only gasps in return.

_Taste her, you bloody dalcop._

Hook chuckles again and Emma whimpers, her breaths coming out in harsh pants. “Very wet indeed, you’re a needy lass aren’t you?” Emma makes a small sound of protest and there’s a noise like he’s licking his fingers. Killian’s erection strains against his leathers as he listens to himself hum with delight. This is the cruelest punishment for his misdeeds the gods could ever conceive of; it’s pure torment that the woman he loves is being ravished by the worst parts of himself, the man he’s striven to leave behind, and all he can do is listen. He can’t even  _remember_ this, which might be the cruelest of all. “Delicious,” Hook continues and Emma whimpers, making Killian think he’s slid his fingers between her legs again. “Would you like to taste?”

_Bloody hell._

“Yes, Captain,” she whispers and Killian palms his erection through his leathers, gritting his teeth.

Hook hums again. “Tell me love, have you tasted yourself before?”

There’s a small popping sound, which means Emma must have released his fingers from her mouth and Killian digs his hook into the floor to keep from doing something he might regret. “It depends,” she says, sounding coy, “on what the captain might think of me if I answer truthfully.”

A pause. Killian’s waiting with bated breath, as he’s sure his past self is, then he hears Hook growl, “I’ll have the truth, if you please.”

“I have,” she says breathlessly, “I like it, Captain, I like the taste – oh!”

From the sounds above, Hook must have kissed her again. Killian is dangerously close to taking his own cock out, giving himself some relief from this torment, but it still seems  _wrong_ somehow. Gods know he’s no stranger to voyeurism, but never without the other parties’ consent and  _never_ in such strange circumstances. Still, his arousal throbs in time with his hammering pulse as he listens to Emma and Hook kissing, quite enthusiastically at that, and gods know what else he might be doing to her.

Movement forces him to shuffle back; he watches as Emma’s feet hit the floor, her skirts swaying back down to her ankles. “Turn around, darling, bend over the desk.”

_Oh fuck._

Up go Emma’s skirts once more, her feet planted firmly apart. The desk rattles slightly above Killian and he swallows hard, squeezing his erection through his leathers tight and willing it to go away. It is, however, a futile effort as Emma moans and the unmistakable sounds of fucking begin right above his head. The desk rattles, Hook grunts, Emma’s breaths come out as harsh pants, and Killian grinds his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as if that should do anything to dull the scene going on above him. 

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the cabin for what feels like hours, with Hook’s grunts punctuated by little encouragements and Emma’s breathy “ _yes_ ”es and “ _please, Hook_ ”s adding delicious torment to Killian’s agony. This very act haunted his dreams for months during their year of separation, this desperate hope to have here here, in his cabin, on  _his_   _ship_ , and have her spilling these same words and sounds from her lips. And when she comes, it should be music to his ears – hearing her cry out, his moniker on her lips, knowing it’s  _his_ cock making her feel such ecstasy – but it’s a sham, a man he no longer wants to be making her feel such things, a memory he does not possess.

Killian opens his eyes and sees Emma’s skirts falling to the cabin floor. The bunk creaks as Hook climbs onto it and he hears Emma ask, “What are you doing?”

Gods be damned, it should be he who made her sound like that, her voice and breathing so unsteady. But he knows what Hook is doing, because as much as Killian dislikes this course of events, he and Hook are one in the same. “Come here, darling,” Hook says.

“I love the taste of a freshly fucked woman,” Killian mutters it under his breath in unison with his younger self, crawling forward slightly despite himself to watch as Hook coaxes Emma up to kneel over his face. 

It’s obvious that Hook’s not done taking his pleasure yet, though his clothes remain on, so the true delight of performing oral on a newly intimate woman is lacking, but the act remains a favorite of his regardless. She seems unsure at first, biting her lip, but reaches up and braces herself on the overhead beam. Her whole body jerks, telling Killian that his other self has found her sensitive core. “Easy lass,” Hook murmurs, his voice muffled by her thighs as he lays his brace across her hip. “Good girl, let me have a taste…”

Emma’s head falls back as she cries out, her hips bucking against Hook’s face. Killian digs his hook into the floor again, pressing down on his straining erection with his free hand and utterly unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Emma Swan awash with pleasure. He’s tempted, oh he’s tempted to take himself in hand and find his release quickly, then escape while she has his younger self occupied. Or perhaps he should take his leave now, then duck into an alley and relieve himself there, add another layer of scummer to the filth in the streets.

But something holds him back.

As he watches Emma’s hips undulate, her pert arse on full display as her breasts remain confined in her stolen corset, he knows he cannot bear to leave her to the whims of a man who might turn on her at a moment’s notice.

Her head turns and she catches Killian’s eye. Hers widen meaningfully, darting towards the ladder, but Killian shakes his head. If nothing else, he rationalizes through his arousal-fogged brain, Smee would find it very odd indeed to see the captain leaving a woman unattended – if Smee had not listened to ‘nightcap’ and not left at all. Emma glares at him, but her face pinches up as she cries out; the source of her pain is Hook’s hand spanking her. “I like my women loud, and I don’t hear anything.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

Emma throws one more glare at him, then returns her attention to that which was being paid between her legs. 

Killian slides back under the table a little more, trying to play least in sight whilst this tryst took place not three feet from him. His own erection is growing rather annoying, something that would make their eventual escape cumbersome; no one had ever designed leather trousers to work with, or around, erect cocks. No, the leather was protection from blades and designed to be removed when one desired to stick their cock into someone. He would chafe, of that he’s certain, unless he takes the matter into hand.

_She already knows you’re here, mate. She fucked him right above your head, she’s screaming your moniker now, she knows how you feel about her. Like as not, she’d be more surprised if you didn’t get your cock out._

His fingers fiddle with the laces as he debates this matter, but Emma squealing brings him sliding back to the front of the table, his heart hammering in his throat.

She’s not in trouble, not in the least – rather, Hook’s got her seated in his lap and he’s yanking down her shirt and corset; her breasts spill over the top and he latches onto one. Emma’s fingers tangle in his hair, cradling his head close as she starts to rock; Killian realizes with a start that he’s already seated inside of her. He presses his hand on his cock again.

Emma looks over and meets his eyes once more before she notices where his hand is. Her eyes widen again, but this time in surprise rather than telling him to leave. To Killian’s utter shock, her tongue darts out and she wets her lips, her eyes never straying from where his hand lay over his straining erection.

She meets his eyes and he knows his own expression is pleading, silently asking permission to take himself in hand, relieving the agony he feels at listening to Emma and Hook fuck themselves silly all over the cabin. She inhales sharply, though it might be from Hook’s teeth on her breast, then nods quickly before Hook spanks her again for being too quiet.

It works in his favor, her sounds of pleasure so close to Hook’s ears masking any noise Killian might make as he undoes his laces and frees his erection from his confining leather trousers. He practically sobs in relief as his hand closes around the hard flesh, gripping hard and pulling the foreskin up and over the head as he pumps his wrist.

He tries to keep time with the way Emma writhes in Hook’s lap; he envies the bastard of the feeling of her fucking his cock, her breasts bouncing and her nipples taut against his face as he switches his attention between them; though in the moment he has to admit that seeing how they would look – how  _Killian_  and Emma would look – in the throes of lovemaking does put all of his fantasies to shame. His dark hair pressed against her creamy skin, her hands in his hair as she pulls him away from her breasts to kiss him again, hungry and open-mouthed and hints of tongue when they pull back briefly for air. She looks glorious riding him, her hair falling in waves that bounce in time with her thrusts, their grunts filling the room.

Killian pauses to lick his hand, using it as lubricant while he strokes himself. When Emma breaks the kiss with Hook, she lays her head on his shoulder as he reaches up, his arms around her to help him leverage up and into her further. Her eyes meet Killian’s once more, watching with uncertainty as he pleasures himself to the sight of her fucking his younger self.

He can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine when she gasps; he wonders for a split second if she’s about to come, but Hook is shifting, pushing Emma onto her back and fucking her with abandon. He buries his face in her neck and she looks around wildly, meeting Killian’s frantic gaze with her own. Her legs wrap around Hook’s hips as she clings to him, holding on for the ride. Killian’s own pace quickens and he fights to keep his eyes open, keeping his eyes locked with hers as she peaks, wailing her pleasure to the world.

Hook grunts, his pace slowing as his own lust is slaked, and it only takes Killian a few more moments to spill his seed on the floor. His face burns with humiliation and he looks away, trying to see if there’s a rag to mop up the mess with, but no – the floor of the cabin is spotless but for Emma’s garments, the greatcoat, and the mess he’s made.

Killian eases back further under the table as Hook rolls off of Emma, groaning. “Bloody hell,” he mumbles, drink and pleasure taking their toll on him.

Emma hums in agreement. “I’ll have to gain my sea legs to leave.”

Hook chuckles, but it’s a drunken, exhausted thing. Killian tucks himself back into his trousers, doing up the laces whilst he prays to anyone listening that his younger self falls asleep quickly. After the kind of night he’s had, Killian’s sure that Hook will sleep well past dawn and wake only to an empty bed and a hazy memory of a beautiful lass with blonde hair.

Or not, he muses. He has no memory of this night from the other end, after all, so he supposes that as of now their mission is on the path to success. If it goes awry, then perhaps he’ll gain new memories, ones that involve chasing after the mysterious blonde bar wench he’d fucked so well in his cabin one night.

Emma’s booted feet hit the floor. “He ripped my underwear,” she mutters, picking up her skirts.

Killian keeps his eyes averted as he picks up her cloak. He shakes it out under the guise of ridding it of dust and dirt and wrinkles, but it’s really to give her some semblance of privacy whilst she puts herself to rights. “It’s okay,” she whispers finally. “I mean, I’m decent or whatever.”

He turns and sees her words are true: her skirts are in place and her breasts are tucked into her corset once more, the ties done up to a respectable place once more. He settles the cloak around her shoulders, brushing her hair up and over the fabric, out of the way. He doesn’t comment on the intimacy, the gentleness of the gesture, and she doesn’t bring it up. Instead, she ties it around her neck and starts for the ladder. “Swan–” he starts.

“No,” Emma says firmly, her hands on the rungs. “We’re not going to talk about this. Not now. Let’s just – let’s just go make sure my parents fall in love, okay?”

Killian bites back a sigh, but he sees her point. What’s just happened is a lot to take in, a lot of questions and emotions left unanswered – why had she looked at him while he’d pleasured himself, watching him while being fucked by another man? Why had she given permission? Why hadn’t she thrown him out?

But she’d said “not now”. So, later, perhaps, they’d talk about this new event between them, and figure out these new emotions.

“Alright, love,” he said, following her up the ladder, making sure her steps were sure and she wasn’t too overdone. “Let’s go find your parents.”


	59. The Deckhand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anon wanted some Deckhand Hook and Emma smut; there was also some chatter elsewhere about fics where it's okay to show more realistic portrayals of sex. And I'm all about that, so this one's a little different.

“Mother  _fuck_!”

Emma sits down hard on the chair, cradling her sore foot.  _There’s no chest there in Killian’s cabin_ , she thinks sourly.

Fucking Black Beard and fucking Isaac and god damn her life.

Ever the gentleman, Killian had offered up the captain’s cabin for her to use while they sailed back to fix whatever Isaac had done. According to Henry, it wasn’t a curse exactly, but being swept into a storybook where their lives were all rewritten didn’t feel exactly  _un_ -curselike either.

Though it had only been two days, the rewrite makes her believe it’s been two years since she’s had a proper bath; as soon as Killian had left her to her own devices, she’d found almost everything she needed for a proper bath. Scrubbed and feeling clean, she’s been scouring the cabin for anything resembling a brush or a comb, something which seems to have been completely foreign to Black Beard, despite all his hair.

Maybe he didn’t have all that hair in this world.

Maybe it’s time she goes to raid the galley for a fork.

“Miss? Er–Emma?”

She sighs, rubbing her sore foot. It’s weird to have Killian at her side when it’s  _not_ him, not really. His… memory’s been wiped or his personality changed or… she doesn’t fucking know what Isaac did but she’s got to figure out something to get her Killian back. Or at least get this one into some kind of fighting shape if they’re gonna make any headway here. “Yeah, it’s open, Killian.” 

The door opens and Killian slips in, closing it quietly behind him. That’s another thing–she’s used to her brash, swaggering pirate, not this meek, quiet man who slips in and out of rooms like a shadow. He keeps his eyes on the floor, the tips of his ears pink. “I heard you cursing, are you all right?”

She tightens the robe she’d found, making sure she’s properly covered; she’s not sure he’ll look at her otherwise. “I’m decent, Killian, it’s okay,” she says and he glances up shyly. She smiles. His timidity is kind of endearing, even if she’s not used to it. “I’m just… it’s not laid out how I’m used to, that’s all.”

“You, ah,” he pauses and scratches under his ear, a gesture so familiar it makes her melt, “you’re familiar with this ship then?”

Emma raises an eyebrow and Killian’s ears turn even redder. “I thought Henry filled you in on everything.”

“It appears not.”

Well, not every thirteen-year old boy wants to recount his mom’s dating life, even if he’s counting on half of that relationship to help with the rescue mission. “Let’s just say that as much time as you’ve spent teaching Henry about ships, you’ve spent as much time letting me poke around the  _Jolly_.”

Usually with him, and usually that poking around leads to finding new places to christen, but she’s not entirely sure this Killian wouldn’t develop a nosebleed at the thought of that, so she keeps it to herself.

“Anyway, is there anything resembling a comb around here? I know pirates have a reputation about being unkempt and dirty, but  _someone_ –”

“I have one.”

His voice is so soft that she almost misses it. She sees the blush has spread down to his cheeks and notices the gentle, neat way his hair curls across his brow. “Can I borrow it?” she asks, folding her hands in her lap so she doesn’t do something stupid, like run her fingers through his hair or completely mess it up or push him onto the floor and pull on his hair to guide his head between her legs–

She shakes her head, dislodging that particular image from her brain, as Killian practically trips over his own feet to go get his things. God, she can’t think about those kinds of things right now. For one thing, Henry’s up on deck. For another, this Killian doesn’t even know her; she feels like if she even suggested something like that he’d acquiesce just because he’d feel afraid to say no. Normally this wouldn’t even be an issue, but Isaac’s  _whatever_ has her all scrambled up and while she  _knows_ , logically, that the last time she and Killian slept together was just a couple of days ago, it feels like years and her body is screaming at her to do something about it.

Feeling like she’s moping, Emma picks at a loose thread on the robe’s hem. She hears the door open again and Killian rushes back in like he thinks he’s running late. “Whoa, there’s no fire,” she says, accepting the offered comb. It’s old, judging by the wear on the handle, but there’s no teeth missing and her heart hurts to think that this might be one of his only possessions to be so well cared for. “Thank you, Killian, I really appreciate it.”

He blushes again and she hides a smile. She hasn’t spotted a mirror so she just gets to work without one, starting at the ends to untangle the mess her hair has become. She hardly notices that he’s still there, watching her, so used to his presence when she’s getting ready in the mornings that she never thought to tell him he could go. After a few minutes, Killian says, “You’re missing spots–ah, sorry–I shouldn’t–”

She does smile outright this time. “Do you mind getting them for me? Since I don’t have a mirror?”

She offers him the comb and he takes it, a stunned look on his face. She turns and lets herself relax as he gently runs the comb through her hair. They’ve done this before, Killian brushing her hair for her, but this feels different. The intimacy of the act remains but there’s an added tension that lingers in the air, his stiff and unsure presence behind her a reminder that everything is not as it should be.

Her head falls back and rests against his thigh. He sucks in a breath, his body going rigid, and Emma inwardly curses herself as she sits upright. “Sorry, that was…” _A force of habit_. “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s–it’s alright.”

He sounds unsure but his hand is steady as he resumes combing her hair.

* * *

 

After they’ve dropped anchor for the night and eaten, Emma doesn’t argue when Henry insists on spending the night in one of the crew hammocks. They’re both still anxious to fix whatever Isaac has done, but with his mother and Killian with him Henry’s lost a lot of his nervous energy from earlier and is back to treating this like an adventure. She kisses his forehead and he makes a face at her–he can only resist being a teenager for so long, apparently–before she heads back to the captain’s cabin on the other end of the ship.

Killian is there, changing the sheets on the bunk.

Emma pauses at the door, watching as he tucks blankets around the mattress she knows is hard and flat and barely better than sleeping on the wooden planks underneath it. The ship creaks in the water and Killian finally notices she’s there, his ears going pink once more as he realizes he’s been caught. “Miss–Emma, I was–I was just fixing the bedding for you.”

Her expression is soft, a little disbelieving. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, stepping towards him.

His gaze drops to the floor and she worries she said something wrong. “I didn’t–I didn’t think it proper for you to have the Captain’s mess all over you.”

She makes a face; not being covered in Black Beard germs is a perk, but she doesn’t want him to feel obligated to wait on her hand and foot, or whatever this is he’s doing. She stops right in front of him and touches his arm, giving it a gentle rub even as Killian half-flinches away from her. “Hey. It’s okay, Killian. It was a nice thought. You just… I just want you to know that you don’t have to keep doing this kind of stuff for me. You can do whatever you want, don’t worry about me.”

He looks up, his eyes uncertain. “I don’t know what else to do,” he says softly. “Looking after things–this ship, people–it’s all I know.”

Emma softens further and sits on the edge of the bunk, patting the spot next to her. “And since the  _Jolly_ looks after herself most of the time…” she drifts off as he gingerly sits next to her.

“Aye, well, without people mucking up the decks and your boy being so resourceful, there’s not much else for me to do. No cargo, everything tied down for the night…”

She covers his hand with hers and he looks up at her, surprised. “It’s sweet,” she says. “It’s not necessary, but it’s sweet to think of me. And it’s nice to know you’re a good man no matter what.”

She leans over and kisses his cheek.

He looks at her like he’s never seen anyone like her in his entire life.

Her eyes flick down to his lips, her body keenly aware of how close they are. Every exhale, shallow as his breath is, sends a puff of warm air against her cheek.

Their noses brush against each other as they move in sync, their lips meeting in a hesitant kiss.

Emma almost wants to weep, feeling like she’s taking a drink after days in the desert. She presses herself against him as much as she can in this position, moving one arm behind him and bringing the other up to cup his cheek, run her nails through his scruff, bite at his lips. Killian makes a noise and she starts to pull away, suddenly aware of what’s happening and how she’s not handling it at all how she should be, but just like the first time they’d kissed Killian follows her and brings her lips back to his. His tongue touches her lips tentatively and she opens for him, letting him sweep into her mouth and caressing his tongue with her own.

“ _Killian_.”

He pulls back, breathing hard. “Is this alright?” he asks.

“More than alright,” she answers, pulling him in for more.

At some point she pushes him onto his back, straddling his waist as she holds his face gently between her hands. She feels him hard against her core through their layers of clothes and it takes all of her willpower not to just  _do_ something about it. The words she’s been fumbling with for so long are stuck at the back of her throat because it’s  _wrong_ to tell him she loves him right now, this version of him that has no idea about them, about their story, about a beanstalk and Neverland and trading away his home so she could have hers.

But he’s looking at her like  _her_ Killian and she knows that he’s somewhere in there, just like she knows her mother’s not really evil and Regina’s not really a bandit.

Everything’s topsy-turvy and she doesn’t know how she’s going to fix this.

“Are you alright, Emma?” Killian asks quietly.

She sighs and carefully gets off of him, curling against his side instead; he doesn’t seem to mind in the least, rolling to face her. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she says, her voice just as soft. “I keep having to remind myself that yes, you’re Killian, but you don’t remember that you’re my Killian.”

“We’ve done this before, then?”

She wants to roll her eyes at his single-mindedness, but she can feel his still-hard cock and it’s probably a good enough excuse as any for it. “Yes. Many times. Enthusiastically. Quite recently in this cabin too, you wanted to make sure you’d properly celebrated having the  _Jolly_ back.”

“Back?”

She shakes her head. “Later.”

“And by ‘properly celebrated’ you mean…” At this point he could be flushed from any number of things, but it’s still so painfully endearing that Emma reaches up and traces his cheekbones, smiling when he leans into her touch. He swallows. “Coupling?”

She bites her lip, shoving down the strong urge to giggle at his choice of verb, and nods. “Yeah. A bit rougher than that suggests, but you were excited and kinda lost your head. You were apologetic about it after.”

His eyes flick down. “I’m sorry–I-I mean, I don’t remember, but I’m sorry if I–”

“Hey,” she says, tilting his chin so he’ll look at her again. “You already apologized. And I kinda liked it so…” She shrugs.

Killian’s got that look again, the one that suggests he’s not sure she’s real. “It’s strange to think of you and I doing… well, any of this, love. To hear you talk about this other world, this other me–”

“You,” she says, poking him in the chest.

He glances away. “Aye, well, it certainly doesn’t feel like me. I hadn’t even kissed a woman until just now, let alone these other… acts you speak of.”

Her jaw doesn’t drop but it’s a close call. Oh God, he thinks he’s a virgin–she’s so conflicted over all of this. On the one hand, how on earth has no saucy bar wench taken this man out back and taught him a trick or two? On the other, the thought of that saucy bar wench doing anything to this version of Killian makes her burn with jealousy.

God, what is wrong with her?

She needs to let him leave. Sleep this off, break the curse, laugh about all this when it’s all over. It’s the right thing to do.

Right?

“Have you seen you?” she blurts out.

_Oh good job, Emma._

“Pardon?” He blinks at her. “Emma, I’m a cripple who can’t drink and before I met your boy, talking to  _anyone_ was harder than weighing anchor on your own. No one wants me.”

There’s anger fizzing under her collarbones, shock and anger and a little bit of pity. She wants to tell herself it’s not real, she knows it’s not real, but to him in this moment it’s real. The naked truth of his words, the matter-of-fact way he’d said it, as if there’s no other possible way he can exist tells her he believes it to be real. And since she can’t go out and punch everyone who ever thought it was a good idea to reject Killian Jones – this man who’d reminded her not that long ago that  _she_  is loved and cherished and wanted – she’ll have to settle for showing him exactly what he’s been missing.

“ _I_  want you,” she tells him, and kisses him again.

And since she knows exactly what he likes, memory curse or not, she’ll be damned if it’s not the most mind-blowing experience of his life.

They strip quickly, opting to dive in headfirst rather than enjoying a slow tease; she’s not sure he can handle a slow tease, and she wants to try and make him last. “Bloody hell,” he breathes as she strips her shirt off last, leaving her breasts bare as she straddles his nude form.

“Still with me, sailor?”

He nods, his eyes roving her body. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits, hesitating before reaching for her hip.

She dips, brushing her damp curls against his cock, grinning at his gasp. “Lucky for you I’m a very good teacher.”

She asks him to lay still for her. He’s left the brace on, the hook discarded somewhere on the floor; she positions both his arms over his head, leaving all those miles of muscles and taut skin on display. “Just stay like that, okay?” Emma murmurs, dragging one finger along his ribs. “Be good for me and don’t move.”

She kisses his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. She nibbles one earlobe and drags her tongue along his jaw to the other. She traces his hammering pulse along his neck, his shallow breathing harsh in her ear, and bites at his collarbones hard enough to make him gasp. There’s a sensitive spot just on his side that she runs her tongue over and he squirms, a giggle slipping out before he can stop it. Emma grins, tweaking one of his nipples. “I thought I said not to move.”

“You’re tickling me, love, how am I supposed to stay still?”

She shrugs, closing her mouth over his nipple and sucking hard. He groans, his back arching. “You figure it out,” she tells him, repeating the motion on the other side.

She loves that he doesn’t have well-defined abs, his stomach soft to the touch and the trail of hair that leads down to his cock is downy. She rubs her nose against his skin and he huffs another laugh, one that quickly turns into a groan as her tongue finds the tip of his cock.

She doesn’t want to spend too long on his cock, knowing full well he can’t handle her at her best right now, but it’s still nice to know she can make his toes curl even when she doesn’t bring her A-game. His knees bend and a guttural cry escapes his throat as she fists the base of his cock, sucking the top into her mouth with short bobs of her head and running her tongue around and around the exposed head.

Just glancing up and seeing him bowing off the bed, his head thrown back, and feeling his heels pressed into her back makes her wet.

Killian makes a confused sound when she lets him go, sitting up and crawling back up next to him. “Can’t have you missing the main event,” she tells him, and there’s some clarity in his wrecked gaze.

His lips find hers and she laughs against him as hand and brace find their way against her shoulder and into her hair. He rolls them, pressing her against the mattress and rutting lightly against her. “Tell me what to do,” he says between kisses, and she gladly instructs him to lay next to her again.

She guides his head to her breast and sighs as his lips close around her nipple. He’s not too rough, his tongue gentle as it laves and swirls, and Emma figures he should be able to multitask; she takes his hand and parts her legs, showing him how she likes to be touched.

The moment his fingers hit her sex, he freezes.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asks.

His head raises and he’s watching her with worried eyes. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”

“You won’t.”

“I–I want to look, to make sure.”

Understanding dawns on her and Emma nods; it’s not so much that he needs to see what he’s doing, it’s that  _her_ Killian always likes to watch when he fucks her. He likes to see his fingers – or cock – disappear inside her, watch the way he can make her squirm and writhe under his skilled hand – or, again, cock. It makes sense that this Killian would want to as well, even if he doesn’t have the words for it.

He sits up and Emma settles back, letting him figure out by touch. In the meantime, her hands go to her breasts, kneading and pinching and caressing to keep herself aroused while Killian’s fingers slide up and down her dripping slit. “Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says; then, because she can’t help herself, she adds, “You know, there’s buried treasure down there, pirate, you can start digging.”

Killian gives her a bewildered look and she starts to laugh. After a moment he grins shyly and his fingers part her folds. “You know, it’s very rare that pirates actually bury treasure. How can it be spent otherwise?”

“So you’ve told me–” Emma gasps when his calloused fingers find her clit. “Do that again.”

His eyes flick down and he watches with fascination as he teases her, sliding in little circles before dipping down to her entrance and tentatively prodding it. When she nods, he pushes in with one finger to test her reaction. “You can do two,” she says, letting her head fall back as her hands resume their ministrations on her breasts.

It’s slower than her Killian might do it, a slow slide in and out of his fingers in her slick body, but he’s watching with fascination as her hips rise and undulate in time with his hand to slowly build her up. Part of her wants to shove his head between her thighs and teach him how to put that talented tongue to use, but the larger part of her has missed him too much and needs to feel his body pressed against hers while he’s buried deep inside her.

She coaxes him up to her, bringing his fingers to her mouth and licking her essence from them, swirling her tongue around and around each finger until he breaks, pulling his hand from her and crashing his mouth against hers. His hips rut against hers, the head of his cock catching her clit every other thrust, and Emma groans – in frustration, in pleasure, in desperation – trying to reach between them to angle him at her entrance. She breaks the kiss and he pushes himself up on his elbows to give her better access; she grips his cock and gives it a few slow, teasing pumps just to watch his eyes flutter shut, then positions him so she can angle her hips up and let him sink inside.

“Just do what feels right,” she whispers as he groans.

“ _Everything_ feels right,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“Then do everything,” she tells him, kissing his cheek.

There’s a prolonged pause before he finally starts to move. Words spill from his lips as he begins to thrust and Emma smiles at the familiarity; Killian never seems to be able to keep his mouth shut during sex, memory curse or not. The familiar slide of his cock in and out of her body feels good but it doesn’t take her long to realize she’s not going to come tonight–and as frustrating as that is, she knows there’s too much going on in her head for this to be some kind of perfect “first time” experience.

He feels good, he feels that she wants him, and they’re together, which is really all that matters.

His thrusts become more and more erratic and she peppers his face with kisses as his his breaths come out in harsh pants. He stutters over his words, a long sigh escaping him as his orgasm hits. She feels him pulse inside her and sends a quiet thanks to the creator of the IUD; there’s going to be plenty of time to have a good chuckle over this memory later without any other surprises along the way.

He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat and she kisses the side of his head as he catches his breath. “How do you feel?”

Killian pushes himself up with a groan and manages to roll off her. “Bloody hell,” he says, and she giggles. “That was–that was amazing, that–” His head falls to the side so he can look at her and there’s a silly grin on his face. “Was that alright?”

She smiles, tucking herself up against his side. “Not bad for a first try. I didn’t come, but it’s alright,” she reassures him as his face falls slightly. “There’s a lot more to making a woman come than just sex.”

“Oh. Apologies, love, I didn’t–I didn’t realize–”

Emma quiets him with another kiss. “It’s okay. Trust me, once all this is over, you’re going to do a pretty spectacular job of making it up to me.”


End file.
